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ELEMENTS 

OF 

B  H  E  T  0  R  I  C; 

COMPRISING    AN    ANALYSIS    OF 

THE  LAWS  OF  MORAL  EVIDENCE 
AND  OF  PERSUASION. 


RULES  FOR  ARGUMENTATIVE  COMPOSITION 
AND  ELOCUTION. 


BY  RICHARD  WHATELY,  D.D.. 

AB.CHBISHOP   OF   DUBLIN 


O  yip  yvoiiSt  xal  /xf/  oa<puJS  Si5a\aS,  iv  urw  el  ical  a>)  EvtOuui'iQf 

Thucvmimm. 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS, 

329    &   331    PEARL    STREET, 
FRANKLIN    SQUARE. 

18G0. 


EDUCATION  DEPT. 


££>~P 


PREFA  CE 


A  brief  outline  of  the  principal  part  of  the  following 
work  was  sketched  out  several  years  ago  for  the  private 
nse  of  some  young  friends ;  and  from  that  MS.  chiefly, 
the  Article  "  Rhetoric,"  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Metropo- 
litana  was  afterwards  drawn  up.  I  was  induced  to  be- 
lieve that  it  might  be  more  useful  if  published  in  a  se- 
parate form ;  and  I  have  accordingly,  with  the  assistance 
of  some  friends,  revised  the  treatise,  and  made  a  few 
additions  and  other  alterations  which  suggested  them- 
selves ;  besides  dividing  it  in  a  manner  more  convenient 
for  reference. 

The  title  of  «*  Rhetoric,"  I  have  thought  it  best  on 
the  whole  to  retain,  being  that  by  which  the  Article  in 
the  Encyclopaedia  is  designated;  as  I  should  be  unwill- 
ing to  lay  myself  open  to  the  suspicion  of  wishing  to 
pass  orf  as  new,  on  the  strength  of  a  new  name,  what 
had  been  already  before  the  public.  But  the  title  is  in 
Bome  respects  open  to  objection.  Besides  that  it  is 
rather  the  more  commonly  employed  in  reference  to 
public  speaking  alone,  it  is  also  apt  to  suggest  to  many 
minds  an  associated  idea  of  empty  declamation,  or  of 
dishonest  artifice. 

The  subject  indeed  stands  perhaps  but  a  few  degrees 
above  Logic  in  popular  estimation  ;  the  one  being  gen- 
erally regarded  by  the  vulgar  as  the  art  of  bewildering 
the  learned  by  frivolous  subtleties ;  the  other,  that  of 
deluding  the  multitude  by  specious  falsehood.  And  if 
a  treatise  on  composition  be  itself  more  favourably  re- 


Evi69328 


IT  PREFACE. 

ceived  than  the  work  of  a  Logician,  the  author  of  it 
must  yet  labour  under  still  greater  disadvantages.  He 
may  be  thought  to  challenge  criticism ;  and  his  own 
performances  may  be  condemned  by  a  reference  to  his 
own  precepts ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  his  precepts  may 
be  undervalued,  through  his  own  failures  in  their  appli- 
cation. Should  this  take  place  in  the  present  instance, 
1  have  only  to  urge,  with  Horace  in  his  Art  of  Poetry, 
that  a  whetstone,  though  itself  incapable  of  cutting,  is 
yet  useful  in  sharpening  steel.  No  system  of  instruc- 
tion will  completely  equalize  natural  powers ;  and  yet 
it  may  be  of  service  towards  their  improvement.  A 
youthful  Achilles  may  acquire  skill  in  hurling  the  jave- 
lin under  the  instruction  of  a  Chiron,  though  the  mas- 
ter may  not  be  able  to  compete  with  the  pupil  in  vigour 
of  arm. 

As  for  any  display  of  florid  eloquence  and  oratorical 
ornament,  my  deficiency  in  which  is  likely  to  be  re- 
marked, it  may  be  sufficient  to  observe,  that  if  1  had  in- 
tended to" practise  any  arts  of  this  kind,  I  should  have 
been  the  less  likely  to  treat  of  them.  To  develope  and 
explain  the  principles  of  any  kind  of  trick,  would  be  a 
most  unwise  procedure  in  any  one  who  purposes  to  em- 
ploy it;  though  perfectly  consistent  for  one  whose  ob- 
ject is  to  put  others  on  their  guard  against  it.  The 
juggler  is  the  last  person  that  would  let  the  spectators 
into  his  own  secret. 

It  may  perhaps  be  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  that 
the  following  pages  are  designed  principally  for  the  in- 
struction of  unpractised  writers.  Of  such  as  have  long 
been  in  the  habit  of  writing  or  speaking,  those  whose 
procedure  has  been  conformable  to  the  rules  I  have  laid 
down,  will  of  course  have  anticipated  most  of  my  ob- 
servations ;  and  those  again  who  have  proceeded  on 
opposite  principles,  will  be  more  likely  to  pass  censures, 
as  it  were  in  self-defence,  than  laboriously  to  unlearn 
what  they  have  perhaps  laboriously  acquired,  and  to 
set  out  afresh  on  a  new  system     But  I  am  encouraged. 


PREFACE.  T 

partly  by  the  result  of  experiments,  to  entertain  a  hope 
that  the  present  system  may  prove  useful  to  such  as 
have  their  method  of  composition,  and  their  style  of 
writing  and  of  delivery  to  acquire.  And  an  author 
ought  to  be  content  if  a  work  be  found  in  some  instan- 
ces not  unprofitable,  which  cannot,  from  its  nature,  be 
expected  to  pass  completely  uncensured. 

Whoever  indeed,  in  treating  of  any  subject,  recom- 
mends (whether  on  good  or  bad  grounds)  a  departure 
from  established  practice,  must  expect  to  encounter  op- 
position. This  opposition  does  not  indeed  imply  that 
his  precepts  are  right;  but  neither  does  ii  prove  them 
wrong  ;  it  only  implies  that  they  are  new  ;  since  few 
will  readily  acknowledge  the  plans  on  which  they  have 
long  been  proceeding,  to  be  mistaken.  If  a  treatise 
therefore  on  the  present  subject  were  received  with  im- 
mediate, universal,  and  unqualified  approbation,  this  cir- 
cumstance, though  it  would  not  indeed  prove  it  to  be 
erroneous,  (since  it  is  conceivable  that  the  methods  com- 
monly pursued  may  be  altogether  right,)  yet  would  af- 
ford a  presumption  that  there  was  not  much  to  be  learnt 
from  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  more  deep-rooted  and  gene- 
rally prevalent  any  error  may  be,  the  less  favourably,  at 
first,  will  its  refutation  (though  proportionably  the  more 
important)  be  for  the  most  part  received. 

With  respect  to  what  are  commonly  called  RhetoricaJ 
Artifices — contrivances  for  "  making  the  worse  appear 
the  better  reason," — it  <7Cfuld  have  savoured  of  pedan- 
tic morality  to  give  solemn  admonitions  against  employ- 
ing them,  or  to  enter  a  formal  disclaimer  of  dishonest 
intention  ;  since,  after  all,  the  generality  will,  accord- 
ing to  their  respective  characters,  make  what  use  of  a 
book  they  think  fit,  without  waiting  for  the  author's 
permission  But  what  1  have  endeavoured  to  do,  is 
dearly  to  set  forth,  as  far  as  I  could,  (as  Bacon  does  in 
his  Essay  on  Cunning,)  these  sophistical  tricks  of  the 
Art :  and  as  far  as  T  may  have  succeeded  in  this,  I  shall 


have  been  providing  the  only  effectual  check  to  the  em- 
ployment of  them.  The  adulterators  of  food  or  of  drug3, 
and  the  coiners  of  base  money,  keep  their  processes  a 
secret,  and  dread  no  one  so  much  as  him  who  detects, 
describes,  and  proclaims  their  contrivances,  and  thus 
puts  men  on  their  guard ;  for  "  every  one  that  doeth 
evil  hateth  the  light,  neither  cometh  to  the  light,  lest 
his  deeds  should  be  made  manifest." 

To  the  prevailing  association  of  the  term  "  Rhetoric," 
with  the  idea  of  these  delusive  contrivances,  may  be 
traced  the  opinion  (which  I  believe  is  also  common) 
that  the  power  of  eloquence  is  lost  on  those  who  them- 
selves possess  it;  or  at  least  that  a  critical  knowledge 
of  the  art  of  Composition  fortifies  any  one,  in  propor- 
tion to  his  proficiency,  against  being  affected  by  the  per 
suasive  powers  of  another.  This  is  undoubtedly  true, 
as  far  as  sophistical  skill  is  concerned.  The  better  ac- 
quainted one  is  with  any  kind  of  rhetorical  trick,  the 
less  liable  he  is  to  be  misled  by  it.  The  artifices,  strict- 
ly so  called,  of  the  orator,  are, 

like  tricks  by  sleight  of  hand, 

which  to  admire  one  should  not  undeistand : 

and  he  who  has  himself  been  behind  the  scenes  of  a 
puppet-show,  and  pulled  the  strings  by  which  the 
figures  are  moved,  is  not  likely  to  be  much  affected  by 
their  performance.  This  is  indeed  one  great  recommen- 
dation of  the  study  of  Rhetoric,  that  it  furnishes  the 
most  effectual  antidote  against  deception  of  this  kind. 
But  it  is  by  no  means  true  that  acquaintance  with  an 
art — in  the  nobler  sense  of  the  word — not  as  consisting 
in  juggling  tricks — tends  to  diminish  our  sensibility  to 
the  most  excellent  productions  of  art.  The  greatest 
proficients  in  music  are  usually  the  most  enthusiastic 
admirers  of  good  music :  the  best  painters  and  poets, 
and  such  as  are  best  versed  in  the  principles  of  those 
arts,  are  in  general  (when  rivalry  is  out  of  the  question) 
the  most  powerfully  affected  by  paintings  and  by  poetry, 
of  superior  excellence.     And  none  I  believe  are  more 


PREFACE.  VJ1 

open  to  the  impression  of  sound,  honest,  manly  elo- 
quence, than  those  who  display  it  in  their  own  compo- 
sitions, and  are  capable  of  analysing  critically  the  mode 
m  which  its  effects  are  produced. 

I  may  add,  that  1  have  in  one  place  (Part  II.  ch.  1.  § 
2.)  pointed  out  an  important  part  of  the  legitimate  art  of 
the  orator,  in  respect  of  the  minds  of  his  hearers,  as  co- 
inciding exactly  with  the  practice  of  a  wise  and  good 
man  in  respect  of  his  own  mind. 

A  few  passages  will  be  found  in  the  following  pages 
which  presuppose  some  acquaintance  with  Logic ;  but 
the  greatest  part,  will,  I  trust,  be  intelligible  to  those 
who  have  not  this  knowledge.  At  the  same  time,  it  is 
implied  by  what  1  have  said  of  that  science,  and  indeed 
by  the  very  circumstance  of  my  kaving  written  on  it, 
that  I  cannot  but  consider  him  as  undertaking  a  task  of 
unnecessary  difficulty,  who  endeavours,  without  study- 
ing Logic,  to  become  a  thoroughly  good  argumentative 
writer. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  a  considerable 
portion  of  what  is  by  many  writers  reckoned  as  a  part 
of  Logic,  has  been  treated  of  by  me  not  under  that  head, 
but  in  Part  I.  of  the  present  work. 

It  may  be  thought  that  some  apology  is  necessary  for 
the  frequent  reference  made  to  the  treatise  just  mention- 
ed, and,  occasionally,  to  some  other  works  of  my  own. 
It  appeared  to  me,  however,  that  either  of  the  other  two 
alternatives  would  have  been  more  objectionable ;  viz. 
either  to  omit  entirely  much  that  was  needful  for  the 
elucidation  of  the  subject  in  hand ;  or,  to  repeat,  in  the 
same  or  in  other  words,  what  had  been  already  pub- 
lished. 

Perhaps  some  apology  may  also  be  thought  necessary 
for  the  various  illustrations,  selected  from  sevnral  au- 
thors, or  framed  for  the  occasion,  which  occur  both  in 
the  present  treatise,  and  in  that  on  Logic ;  and  in  which., 
opinions  on  various  subjects  are  incidentally  conveyed  ; 
in  aU  of  which,  it  cannot  be  expected  that  every  oae  <±1 


rill  PREFACE. 

my  readers  will  concur.  And  some  may  accordingly 
be  disposed  to  complain  that  they  cannot  put  thes« 
works  into  the  hands  of  any  young  person  under  their 
care,  without  a  risk  of  his  imbibing  notions  which  they 
think  erroneous.  This  objection,  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve, has  been  especially  felt,  though  not  always  ex- 
plicitly stated,  by  the  most  decidedly  antichristian  wri- 
ters of  the  present  day.  But  it  should  be  remembered, 
that  Logic  and  Rhetoric  having  no  proper  subject-mat- 
ter of  their  own,  it  was  necessary  to  resort  to  other  de- 
partments of  knowledge  for  exemplifications  of  the  prin 
ciples  laid  down ;  and  it  would  have  been  impossible, 
without  confining  myself  to  the  most  insipid  truisms,  to 
avoid  completely  all  topics  on  which  there  exists  any 
difference  of  opinion.  If,  in  the  course  of  either  work, 
I  have  advocated  any  erroneous  tenet,  the  obvious  re- 
medy is,  to  refute  it.  I  am  utterly  unconscious  of  hav- 
ing in  any  instance  resorted  to  the  employment  of  fal- 
lacy, or  substituted  declamation  for  argument ;  but  if 
any  such  faults  exist,  it  is  easy  to  expose  them.  Nor 
is  it  necessary  that  when  any  book  is  put  into  the  hands 
of  a  young  student,  he  should  understand  that  he  is  to 
adopt  implicitly  every  doctrine  contained  in  it,  or  should 
not  be  cautioned  against  any  erroneous  principles  which 
it  may  inculcate :  otherwise  indeed,  it  would  be  impos 
sible  to  give  young  men  what  is  called  a  classical  edu- 
cation, without  making  them  Pagans. 

That  I  have  avowed  an  assent  to  the  evidences  of 
Christianity,  (that,  I  believe,  is  the  point  on  which  the 
greatest  soreness  is  felt,)  and  that  this  does  incidentally 
imply  some  censure  of  those  who  reject  it,  is  not  to  be 
denied.  But  they  again  are  at  liberty — and  they  are  not 
backward  in  using  their  liberty — to  repel  the  censure, 
by  refuting,  if  they  can,  those  evidences.  And  as  long 
as  they  confine  themselves  to  calm  argumentation,  and 
abstain  from  insult,  libellous  personality,  and  falsifica- 
tion of  facts,  I  earnestly  hope  no  force  will  ever  be  em- 
ployed to  silence  them,  except  force  of  argument.    I  am 


PREFACE.  UL 

not  one  of  those  jealous  lovers  of  freedom  who  would 
Iain  keep  it  all  to  themselves ;  nor  do  I  dread  ultimate 
danger. to  the  cause  of  truth  from  fair  discussion.* 

It  may  be  objected  by  some,  that  in  the  foregoing 
Words  1  have  put  forth  a  challenge  which  cannot  be  ac- 
cepted ;  inasmuch  as  it  has  been  declared  by  the  highest 
legal  authorities,  that  "  Christianity  is  part  of  the  Law 
of  the  Land ;"  and  consequently  any  one  who  impugns 
it,  is  liable  to  prosecution.  What  is  the  precise  mean- 
ing of  the  above  legal  maxim,  I  do  not  profess  to  deter 
mine ;  having  never  met  with  any  one  who  could  ex- 
plain it  to  me :  but  evidently  the  mere  circumstance, 
that  we  have  a  "  Religion  by  Law  established,"  does 
not,  of  itself,  imply  the  illegality  of  arguing  against  that 
Religion  The  regulations  of  trade  and  of  navigation, 
for  instance,  are  unquestionably  part  of  the  law  of  the 
land ;  but  the  question  of  their  expediency  is  freely  dis- 
cussed, and  frequently  in  no  very  measured  language 
nor  did  I  ever  hear  of  any  one's  being  menaced  with 
prosecution  for  censuring  them. 

I  presume  not  however  to  decide  what  steps  might, 
legally,  be  taken  ;  I  am  looking  only  to  facts  and  pro- 
babilities ;  and  I  feel  a  confident  trust,  as  well  as  hope, 
(and  that,  founded  on  experience  of  the  past,)  that  no 
legal  penalties  will,  in  fact,  be  incurred  by  temperate, 
decent,  argumentative  maintainers  even  of  the  most  er- 
roneous opinions. 

I  have  only  to  add  my  acknowledgments  to  those 
friends  for  whose  kind  and  judicious  suggestions  I 
am  so  much  indebted:  and  to  assure  them,  that 
whatever  may  be  the  public  reception  of  the  work, 
I  shall  never  cease  to  feel  flattered  and  obliged  b) 
the  diligent  attention  they  have  bestowed  on  it. 

*  See  Speech  on  Jews'  Relief  Bill,  and  Remarks  appended  to  ii 
Vol  vf  Tracts,  &c  pp.  419—446. 

2 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION. 

Definitions  of  Rhetoric        .  13 

History  of  Rhetoric         .         ._               .  18 
Assiduous  cultivation  of  Rhetoric  by  the  An- 
cients             ......     21 

Utility  of  rules  for  Composition        ...  23 

Exercises  in  Composition    .  .27 

Debating  Societies  .                  .  31 

PART  1. 

OF  THE  ADDRESS  TO  THE  UNDERSTANDING,  WITH  A  VIEW 
TO  PRODUCE  CONVICTION  (INCLUDING  INSTRUCTION.) 

Chap.  1.  Of  Propositions  to  be  maintained  33 

II.  Of  Arguments         ....  37 
III    Of  the  various  use  and  order  of  the  se- 
veral kinds  of  Propositions  and  of 

Arguments  in  different  cases  85 

IV.  Of  Introductions                 .         .  131 


1 2  CONTENTS. 

PART  II. 

Of   THE   ADDRESS   TO   THE   WILL,   OR   PERSUASION. 

Paqb 

Ohap.  I.  Introductory  considerations        .  135 

II.  Of  the  conduct  of  any  address  to  the 

feelings  generally  .         .  145 

III.  Of  the  favourable  or  unfavourable  dis- 
position of  the  Hearers  or  Readers 
towards  the  Speaker  or  Writer,  and 
his  opponent  .      159 

PART  III. 

OF  STYLE. 

Chap.  I.  Of  Perspicuity  of  Style      .  i79 

II.  Of  Energy,  or  Vivacity  of  Style  192 

III.  Of  Elegance,  or  Beauty  of  Style  .     242 

PART  IV. 

OF   ELOCUTION,    OR    DELIVERY. 

Chap.  I.  General  considerations  relative  to  Elo- 
cution   253 

II.  The  Artificial  and   Natural  modes  of 

Elocution  compared       .  .261 

III.  Considerations  arising  from  the  differ- 

ences between  Reading  and  Speak- 
ing      269 

IV.  Practical  deductions  from  the  foregoing 

views  .  .         .     284 

APPENDIX. 
Containing  extracts  from  Authors,  with  remarks    }99 


ELEMENTS  OF  BHETOBIC. 


INTRODUCTION ,- 

§  1.  Of  Rhetoric  various  definitions,  have  Varioug  de# 
been  given  by  different  writers;  who,  how-  finitions  of 
ever,  seem  not  so  much  to  have  disagreed  Rhetoric, 
in  their  conceptions  of  the  nature  of  the  same  thing, 
as  to  have  had  different  things  in  view  while  they  em- 
ployed the  same  term.  Not  only  the  word  Rhetoric  it- 
self, but  also  those  used  in  denning  it,  have  been  taken 
in  various  senses ;  as  may  be  observed  with  respect  to 
the  word  "Art"  in  Cic.  de  Orat.  where  a  discussion 
is  introduced  as  to  the  applicability  of  that  term  to  Rhe- 
toric; manifestly  turnkig  on  the  different  senses  in  which 
"  Art "  may  be  understood. 

To  enter  into  an  examination  of  all  the  definitions 
that  have  been  given,  would  lead  to  much  uninteresting 
and  uninstructive  verbal  controversy.  It  is  sufficient 
to  put  the  reader  on  his  guard  against  the  common  er- 
ror of  supposing  that  a  general  term  has  some  real  ob- 
ject, properly  corresponding  to  it,  independent  of  our 
conceptions;— that,  consequently,  some  one  definition 
in  every  case  is  to  be  found  which  will  comprehend 
every  thing  that  is  rightly  designated  by  that  term ; — 
and  that  all  others  must  be  erroneous :  whereas,  in  fact, 
it  will  often  happen,  as  in  the  present  instance,  that 
both  the  wider,  and  the  more  restricted  sense  of  a  term, 
will  be  alike  sanctioned  by  use,  (the  only  competent 
authority,)  and  that  the  consequence  will  be  a  corres- 
ponding variation  in  the  definitions  employed ;  none  of 


14  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  1 

which  perhaps  may  be  fairly  chargeable  with  error, 
though  none  can  be  framed  that  will  apply  to  every  ac- 
ceptation of  the  term. 

It  is  evident  that  in  its  primary  signification,  Rhetoric 
had  reference  to  public  speaking  alone,  as  its  etymology 
implies:  but  as  most  of  the  rules  for  speaking  are  of 
course  applicable  equally  to  writing,  an  extension  of 
ine  term  natumlJy  tool:  place;  and  we  find  even  Aris- 
totle, the  earliest  systematic  writer  on  the  subject  whose 
v  o:xs  have  come  "down  to  us,  including  in  his  treatise, 
rules  jfoi  such  eampos-itions  us  were  not  intended  to  be 
publicly  recited.*  And  even  as  far  as  relates  to  speeches, 
properly  so  called,  he  takes,  in  the  same  treatise,  at  one 
time,  a  wider,  and  at  another,  a  more  restricted  view  of 
the  subject ;  including  under  the  term  Rhetoric,  in  the 
opening  of  his  work,  nothing  beyond  the  finding  of  to- 
pics of  persuasion,  as  far  as  regards  the  matter  of  what 
is  spoken  ;  and  afterwards  embracing  the  consideration 
of  style,  arrangement,  and  delivery. 

The  invention  of  printing,!  by  extending  the  sphere 
of  operation  of  the  writer.,  has  of  course  contributed  to 
the  extension  of  those  terms  which,  in  their  primary 
signification,  had  reference  to  speaking  alone.  Many 
objects  are  now  accomplished  through  the  medium  of 
the  press,  which  formerly  came  under  the  exclusive 
province  of  the  orator  ;  and  the  qualifications  requisite 
for  success  are  so  much  the  same  in  both  cases,  that  we 
apply  the  term  "  eloquent,"  as  readily  to  a  writer  as  to 
a  speaker;  though  etymologically  considered,  it  could 
only  belong  to  the  latter.  Indeed  "  eloquence,"  is  of 
ten  attributed  even  to  such  compositions — e,  g.  Histori 
cal  works — as  have  in  view  an  object  entirely  different 
from  any  that  could  be  proposed  by  an  orator ;  because 

*  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  book  iii. 

t  Or  rather  of  paper ;  for  the  invention  of  printing  is  too  obvioiu 
not  to  have  speedily  followed,  in  a  literary  nation,  the  introduction 
sf  a  paper  sufficiently  cheap  to  make  the  art  available.  Indeed  UV 
leals  of  the  ancients  seem  to  have  been  a  kind  of  stamps,  witk 
which  they  in  fact  printed  their  names. 


§  1.]  INTRODUCTION  15 

some  part  of  the  rules  to  be  observed  in  oratory,  or  rules 
analogous  to  these,  are  applicable  to  such  compositions. 
Conformably  to  this  view  therefore  some  writers  have 
spoken  of  Rhetoric  as  the  art  of  composition,  univer- 
sally ;  or,  with  the  exclusion  of  poetry  alone,  as  embrac- 
ing all  prose-composition. 

A  still  wider  extension  of  the  province  of  Rhetoric 
had  been  contended  for  by  some  of  the  ancient  writers; 
who,  thinking  it  necessary  to  include,  as  belonging  to 
the  art,  every  thing  that  could  conduce  to  the  attain- 
ment of  the  object  proposed,  introduced  into  their  sys- 
tems, Treatises  on  Law,  Morals,  Politics,  &c,  on  the 
ground  that  a  knowledge  of  these  subjects  was  requisite 
to  enable  a  man  to  speak  well  on  them ;  and  even  in- 
sisted on  Virtue*  as  an  essential  qualification  of  a  per- 
fect orator  :  because  a  good  character,  which  can  in  no 
way  be  so  surely  established  as  by  deserving  it,  has 
great  weight  with  the  audience. 

These  notions  are  combated  by  Aristotle ;  Aristotle's 
who  attributes  them  either  to  the  ill-cultivat-  censure  oi 
ed  understanding  {airaidevala)  of  those  who  his  Prede- 
maintained  them,  or  to  their  arrogant  and  pre- 
tending disposition,  (tUafovaa ;)  i.  e.  a  desire  to  extol 
and  magnify  the  art  they  professed.  In  the  present  day, 
the  extravagance  of  such  doctrines  is  so  apparent  to 
most  readers,  that  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  take 
much  pains  in  refuting  them.  It  is  worthy  of  remark, 
however,  that  the  very  same  erroneous  view  is,  even 
now,  often  taken  of  Logic  ;f  wThich  has  been  consider- 
ed by  some  as  a  kind  of  system  of  universal  knowledge, 
on  the  ground  that  argument  may  be  employed  on  all 
subjects,  and  that  no  one  can  argue  well  on  a  subject 
which  he  does  not  understand ;  and  which  has  been 
complained  of  by  others  for  not  supplying  any  such 
universal  instruction  as  its  unskilful  advocates  have 
placed  within  its  province  ;  such  as  in  fact  no  one  art 
or  system  can  possibly  afford. 
*  See  Quinctilian  t  Elements  of  Logic,  Introduction 


16  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  1 

The  error  is  precisely  the  same  in  respect  of  Rhetoric 
and  of  Logic ;  both  being  instrumental  arts ;  and,  as 
such  applicable  to  various  kind  of  subject-matter,  which 
do  not  properly  come  under  them. 

So  judicious  an  author  as  Quinctilian  would  not  have 
failed  to  perceive,  had  he  not  been  carried  away  by  an 
inordinate  veneration  for  his  own  art,  that  as  the  pos- 
session of  building  materials  is  no  part  of  the  art  of 
architecture,  though  it  is  impossible  to  build  without 
materials,  so,  the  knowledge  of  the  subjects  on  which 
the  orator  is  to  speak,  constitutes  no  part  of  the  art  of 
Rhetoric,  though  it  be  essential  to  its  successful  employ- 
ment ;  and  that  though  virtue,  and  the  good  reputation 
it  procures,  add  materially  to  the  speaker's  influence, 
they  are  no  more  to  be,  for  that  reason,  considered  as 
belonging  to  the  orator,  as  such,  than  wealth,  rank,  or 
a  good  person,  which  manifestly  have  a  tendency  to 
produce  the  same  effect. 

Extremes  In  the  present  day,  however,  the  province 
in  the  limi-  0f  Rhetoric,  in  the  widest  acceptation  that 
extensionof  W0UW  be  reckoned  admissible,  comprehends 
theprovince  all  "  composition  in  prose ;"  in  the  narrowest 
of  Rhetoric.  sense}  ft  would  be  limited  to  "persuasive 
speaking." 

I  propose  in  the  present  work  to  adopt  a  middle 
Object  of  course  between  these  two  extreme  points ; 
the  present  and  to  treat  of  "  argumentative  composition," 
treatise.  generally,  and  exclusively  ;  considering  Rhe- 
toric (in  conformity  with  the  very  just  and  philosophi- 
cal view  of  Aristotle)  as  an  off-shoot  from  Logfc. 

1  remarked  in  treating  of  that  science,  that  reasoning 
may  be  considered  as  applicable  to  two  purposes,  which 
I  ventured  to  designate  respectively  by  the  terms  "  In- 
ferring," and  "  proving ;"  i.  e.  the  ascertainment  of  the 
truth  by  investigation,  and  the  establishment  of  it  to  the 
satisfaction  of  another ;  and  I  there  remarked,  that  Ba- 
con, in  his  Organon,  has  laid  down  rules  for  the  con- 
duct of  the  former  of  these  processes,  and  that  the  lattei 


1 1.]  INTRODUCTION.  || 

belongs  to  the  province  of  Rhetoric :  and  it  phiiogol)h 
was  added,  that  to  infer  is  to  be  regarded  as  and  Rheto 
the  proper  office  of  the  philosopher,  or  the  r|?  compar- 
judge ; — to  prove,  of  the  advocate.  It  is  not  e  ' 
however  to  be  understood  that  philosophical  works  are 
to  be  excluded  from  the  class  to  which  Rhetorical  rules 
are  applicable ;  for  the  philosopher  who  undertakes,  by- 
writing  or  speaking,  to  convey  his  notions  to  others, 
assumes,  for  the  time  being,  the  character  of  advocate 
of  the  doctrines  he  maintains.  The  process  of  investi- 
gation must  be  supposed  completed,  and  certain  conclu- 
sions arrived  at  by  that  process,  before  he  begins  to 
impart  his  ideas  to  others  in  a  treatise  or  lecture  ;  the 
object  of  which  must  of  course  be  to  prove  the  justness 
of  those  conclusions.  And  in  doing'  this,  he  will  not 
always  find  it  expedient  to  adhere  to  the  same  course  of 
reasoning  by  which  his  own  discoveries  were  originally 
made  ;  other  arguments  may  occur  to  him  afterwards, 
more  clear,  or  more  concise,  or  better  adapted  to  the 
understanding  of  those  he  addresses.  In  explaining 
therefore,  and  establishing  the  truth,  he  may  often  have 
occasion  for  rules  of  a  different  kind  from  those  employ- 
ed in  its  discovery.  Accordingly,  when  I  remarked  in 
the  work  above  alluded  to,  that  it  is  a  common  fault, 
for  those  engaged  in  Philosophical  and  Theological  in- 
quiries, to  forget  their  own  peculiar  office,  and  assume 
that  of  the  advocate,  improperly,  this  caution  is  to  be 
understood  as  applicable  to  the  process  of  forming  their 
own  opinions  ;  not,  as  excluding  them  from  advocating 
by  all  fair  arguments,  the  conclusions  at  which  they 
have  arrived  by  candid  investigation.  But  if  this  can- 
did investigation  do  not  take  place  in  the  first  instance, 
no  pains  that  they  may  bestow  in  searching  for  argu- 
ments, will  have  any  tendency  to  insure  their  attain- 
ment of  truth.  If  a  man  begins  (as  is  too  plainly  a 
frequent  mode  of  proceeding)  by  hastily  adopting,  01 
strongly  leaning  to,  some  opinion  which  suits  his  inch 
cation,  or  which  is  sanctioned  by  some  authority  tha 
2* 


18  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  2. 

he  blindly  venerates,  and  then  studies  with  the  utmost 
diligence,  not  as  an  investigator  of  truth,  but  as  an  ad- 
vocate labouring  to  prove  his  point,  his  talents  and  his 
researches,  whatever  effect  they  may  produce  in  making 
converts  to  his  notions,  will  avail  nothing  in  enlighten- 
ing his  own  judgment,  and  securing  him  from  error. 

Composition  however,  of  the  argumentative  kind,  may 
be  considered  (as  has  been  above  stated)  as  coming  un 
der  the  province  of  Rhetoric.  And  this  view  of  the 
subject  is  the  less  open  to  objection,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
not  likely  to  lead  to  discussions  that  can  be  deemed  su- 
perfluous, even  by  those  who  may  choose  to  consider 
Rhetoric  in  the  most  restricted  sense,  as  relating  only  to 
"  persuasive  speaking,"  since  it  is  evident  that  Argu- 
ment must  be,  in  most  cases  at  least,  the  basis  of  per- 
suasion. 

Plan  of  I  propose  then  to  treat,  first  and  principally, 
the  present  of  the  Discovery  of  Arguments,  and  of  their 
treatise.  arrangement ;  secondly,  to  lay  down  some 
rules  respecting  the  excitement  and  management  of  what 
are  commonly  called  the  passioiis,  (including  every  kind 
of  feeling,  sentiment,  or  emotion,)  with  a  view  to  the 
attainment  of  any  object  proposed — principally,  persua- 
sion, in  the  strict  sense,  i.  e-  the  influencing  of  the  will  ; 
thirdly,  to  offer  some  remarks  on  style;  and, fourthly, 
to  treat  of  elocution. 

History  of  §  2.  It  maybe  expected  that,  before  I  pro- 
Rhetoric.  ceec[  to  treat  of  the  art  ir  question,  I  should 
present  the  reader  with  a  sketch  of  its  history.  Little 
however  is  required  to  be  said  on  this  head,  because  the 
present  is  not  one  of  those  branches  of  study  in  which 
we  can  trace  with  interest  a  progressive  improvement 
from  age  to  age.  It  is  one,  on  the  contrary,  to  which 
more  attention  appears  to  have  been  paid,  and  in  which 
greater  proficiency  is  supposed  to  have  been  made,  ia 
die  earliest  days  of  Science  and  Literature,  than  at  anj 
subsequent  period.  Among  the  ancients, 
Aristotle.   Aristotle,  the  earliest  whose  works  are  extant. 


{  2.]  INTRODUCTION.  & 

may  safely  be  pronounced  to  be  also  the  best  of  the  syg' 
sematic  writers  on  Rhetoric.  Cicero  is  hard-  cicero. 
ly  to  be  reckoned  among  the  number  ;  for  he 
delighted  so  much  more  in  the  practice  than  in  the  the- 
ory of  his  art,  that  he  is  perpetually  drawn  off  from  the 
rigid  philosophical  analysis  of  its  principles,  into  dis- 
cursive declamations,  always  eloquent  indeed,  and  often 
highly  interesting,  but  adverse  to  regularity  of  system, 
and  frequently  as  unsatisfactory  to  the  practical  student 
as  to  the  philosopher.  He  abounds  indeed  with  excel- 
lent practical  remarks,  thongh  the  best  of  them  are  scat- 
tered up  and  down  his  works  with  much  irregularity ; 
but  his  precepts,  though  of  great  weight,  as  being  the 
result  of  experience,  are  not  often  traced  up  by  him  to 
first  principles;  and  we  are  frequently  left  to  guess,  not 
only  on  what  basis  his  rules  are  grounded,  but  in  what 
cases  they  are  applicable.  Of  thislatter  defect  a  remark- 
able instance  will  be  hereafter  cited.* 

Quinctilian  is  indeed  a  systematic  writer;  Quinctilian. 
but  cannot  be  considered  as  having  much  ex- 
tended the  philosophical  views  of  his  predecessors  in 
this  department.  He  possessed  mnch  good  sense,  but 
this  was  tinctured  with  pedantry;  with  that  a?,a&veia, 
as  Aristotle  calls  it,  which  extends  to  an  extravagant 
degree  the  province  of  the  art  which  he  professes.  A 
great  part  of  his  work  indeed  is  a  Treatise  on  Education, 
generally;  in  the  conduct  of  which  he  was  no  mean 
proficient;  for  such  was  the  importance  attached  to 
public  speaking,  even  long  after  the  downfall  of  the 
Republic  had  cut  off  the  orator  from  the  hopes  of  attain- 
ing, through  the  means  of  this  qualification,  the  highest 
political  importance,  that  he  who  was  nominally  a  pro- 
fessor of  Rhetoric,  had  in  fact  the  most  important 
branches  of  instruction  intrusted  to  his  care. 

Many  valuable  maxims  however  are  to  be  found  in 
this  author;  but  he  wanted  the  profundity  of  thought 
ftnd  power  of  analysis  which  Aristotle  possessed 
*  See  Part  I.  ch.  3.  $  v. 


10  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  2. 

The  writers  on  Rhetoric  among  the  ancier.is  whose 
works  are  lost,  seem  to  have  been  numerous ;  but  most 
of  them  appear  to  have  confined  themselves  to  a  very 
narrow  view  of  the  subject ;  and  to  have  been  occupied, 
as  Aristotle  complains,  with  the  minor  details  of  style 
and  arrangement,  and  with  the  sophistical  tricks  and 

f)etty  artifices  of  the  pleader,  instead  of  giving  a  master- 
y  and  comprehensive  sketch  of  the  essentials. 

Among  the  moderns,  few  writers  of  ability  have  turn- 
ed their  thoughts  to  the  subject ;  and  but  little  has  been 
added,  either  in  respect  of  matter,  or  of  system,  to  what 
the  ancients  have  left  us.  Bacon's  "Anti- 
Bacon,  iheta"  however — the  rhetorical  common- 
places— are  a  wonderful  specimen  of  acuteness  of 
thought  and  pointed  conciseness  of  expression.  1  have 
accordingly  placed  a  selection  of  them  in  the  Ap 
pendix.*' 

Campbell.  ^  were  most  unjust  in  this  place  to  leave 
unnoticed  Dr.  Campbell's  Philosophy  of  Rhe 
toric  :  a  work  which  does  not  enjoy  indeed  so  high  a 
degree  of  popular  favour  as  Dr.  Blair's,  but  is  incom- 
parably  superior  to  n,  not  only  in  depth  of  thought  and 
ingenious  original  research,  but  also  in  practical  utility 
to  the  student.  The  title  of  Dr.  Campbell's  work  has 
perhaps  deterred  many  readers,  who  have  concluded  il 
to  be  more  abstruse  and  less  popular  in  its  character  than 
it  really  is.  Amidst  much  however  that  is  readily  un- 
derstood by  any  moderately  intelligent  reader,  there  is 
much  also  that  calls  for  some  exertion  of  thought,  which 
the  indolence  of  most  readers  refuses  to  bestow.  And 
it  must  be  owned  that  he  also  in  some  instances  per- 
plexes his  readers  by  being  perplexed  himself,  and  be« 
wildered  in  the  discussion  of  questions  through  which 
he  does  not  clearly  see  his  way.  His  great  defect,  which 
not  only  leads  him  into  occasional  errors,  but  leavea 
many  of  his  best  ideas  but  imperfectly  developed,  is  his 
ignorance  and  utter  misconception  of  the  nature  andob* 
*  See  Appendix,  f  A.j 


f  3.]  INTRODUCTION.  21 

•ect  of  Logic;  on  which  some  remarks  are  made  in  mj 
Treatise  on  that  Science.  Rhetoric  being  in  truth  an 
off-shoot  of  Logic,  that  Rhetorician  must  labour  under 
great  disadvantages  who  is  not  only  ill-acquainted  with 
that  system,  but  also  utterly  unconscious  of  his  defi- 
ciency. 

$  3.  From  a  general  view  of  the  history  of  lihetorie, 
two  questions  naturally  suggest  themselves,  which,  on 
examination  will  he  found  very  closely  connected  to- 
gether: first,  what  is  the  cause  of  the  careful  and  ex- 
tensive cultivation,  among  the  ancients*  of  an  art  which 
the  moderns  have  comparatively  neglected ;  and  second- 
ly! whether  the  former  or  the  latter  are  to  be  regarded 
as  the  wiser  in  this  respect  j  in  other  words,  whether 
Rhetoric  be  worth  any  diligent  cultivation. 

With  regard  to  the  first  of  these  questions,  t    ., 
the  answer  generally  given  is,  that  the  nature  ettuiration 
of  the  Government  in  the  ancient  democrat!-  ot  Bhetorio 
cal  States  caused  a  demand  for  public  speak-  Jj^J 
erSi  and  for  such  Speaki  lid  be  able 

to  gain  influence  not  only  with  educated  persons  in  dis 
onate  deliberation,  but  with  a  promiscuous  multi- 
tude ;  and  accordingly  it  is  remarked  that  the  extinction 
of  liberty  brought  with  it,  or  at  least  brought  after  it, 
the  decline  of  eloquence  ;  as  is  justly  remarked  (though 
in  a  courtly  form)  by  the  author  of  the  dialogue  on  o:a- 
tory,  which  passes  under  the  name  of 'I  •  What 

need  is  there  of  Jong  discourses  in  the  Senate,  when  the 
best  of  its  members  speedily  come  to  an  agreement?  or 
of  numerous  harangues  to  the  peopb-,  when  delibera- 
tions on  public  affairs  are  conducted,  not  by  a  multitude 
of  unskilled  persons,  but  by  a  single  individual,  and 
that  the  wi  ■ 

This  account  of  the  matter  is  undoubtedly  cor; 

far  as  it  goes ;  but  the  importance  of  public  speaking  is 

*  "  Quid  enim  optu  est  ]&£'*  'ri  Benatu  f.<  atonttis,  cam  optfani 

cho  consentiant  1  qui'],  urauiij  apud  popultun  concionibui,  cum  de 

Bapablica  n-m.  unperiti  et  multl  dchbwent,  sed  f.ajjieiiUsBimuB,  et 

Earn  7" 


22  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  3 

so  great  in  our  own,  and  all  other  countries  that  are  not 
under  a  despotic  government,  that  the  apparent  neglect 
of  the  study  of  Rhetoric  seems  to  require  some  further 
explanation.  Part  of  this  explanation  may  be  supplied 
by  the  consideration  "that  the  difference  in  this  respect 
between  the  ancients  and  ourselves  is  not  so  great  in 
reality  as  in  appearance.  When  the  only  way  of  ad- 
dressing  the  public  was  by  orations,  and 
cients  hear-  when  all  political  measures  were  debated  in 
ers  rather  popular  assemblies,  the  characters  of  orator 
than  read-  author,  and  politician,  almost  entirely  coinci- 
ded ;  he  who  would  communicate  his  ideas  to 
the  world,  or  would  gain  political  power,  and  carry  his 
legislative  schemes  into  effect,  was  necessarily  a  spea- 
ker ;  since,  as  Pericles  is  made  to  remark  by  Thucy- 
dides,  "  one  who  forms  a  judgment  on  any  point,  but 
cannot  explain  himself  clearly  to  the  people,  might  as 
well  have  never  thought  at  all  on  the  subject."*  The 
consequence  was,  that  almost  all  who  sought,  and  all 
who  professed  to  give,  instruction,  in  the  principles  of 
government,  and  the  conduct  of  judicial  proceedings, 
combined  .these,  in  their  minds  and  in  their  practice, 
with  the  study  of  Rhetoric,  which  was  necessary  to 
give  effect  to  all  such  attainments ;  and  in  time  the 
rhetorical  writers  (of  whom  Aristotle  makes  that  com- 
plaint) came  to  consider  the  science  of  Legislation  and 
of  Politics  in  general,  as  a  part  of  their  own  art. 

Much,  therefore,  of  what  was  formerly  studied  under 
the  name  of  Rhetoric,  is  still,  under  other  names,  as 
generally  and  as  diligently  studied  as  ever. 

It  cannot  be  denied  however  that  a  great  difference, 
though  less,  as  I  have  said,  than  might  at  first  sight 
appear,  does  exist  between  the  ancients  and  the  moderns 
in  this  point ; — that  what  is  strictly  and  properly  called 
Rhetoric,  is  much  less  studied,  at  least  less  systematically 
studied,  now,  than  formerly.  Perhaps  this  also  may  be 
:n  some  measure  accounted  for  from  the  circumstances 
*  Thucydides,  book  ii.    See  the  motto. 


1 4.  INTRODUCTION.  2* 

which  have  been  just  noticed.     Such  is  the  distrust 
excited  by  any  suspicion  of  rhetorical  arti- 
fice, that  every  speaker  or  writer  who  is  of  ^e^ri* 
anxious  to  carry  his  point,  endeavours  to  cai  studies 
disown  or  to  keep  out  of  sight  any  superi-  *™°,ng   the 

r     i  mi  -        •  i         ,°   i  -j        i  moderns. 

ority  of  skill ;  and  wishes  to  be  considered 
as  relying  rather  on  the  strengm  of  his  cause,  and  the 
soundness  of  his  views,  than  on  his  ingenuity  and  ex- 
pertness  as  an  advocate.  Hence  it  is,  that  even  those 
who  have  paid  the  greatest  and  the  most  successful  at- 
tention to  the  study  of  Composition  and  of  Elocution, 
are  so  far  from  encouraging  others  by  example  or  re- 
commendation to  engage  in  the  same  pursuit,  that  they 
labour  rather  to  conceal  and  disavow  their  own  pro- 
ficiency ;  and  thus,  theoretical  rules  are  decried,  even 
by  those  who  owe  the  most  to  them.  Whereas  among 
the  ancients,  the  same  cause  did  not,  for  the  reasons 
lately  mentioned,  operate  to  the  same  extent;  since, 
however  careful  any  speaker  might  be  to  disown  the 
artifices  of  .Rhetoric,  properly  so  called,  he  would  not 
be  ashamed  to  acknowledge  himself,  generally,  a  student 
or  a  proficient,  in  an  Art  which  was  understood  to  in 
elude  the  elements  of  political  wisdom. 

§  4.  With  regard  to  the  other  question  pro-  utility  of 
posed,  viz.  concerning  the  utility  of  Rhetoric,  Rhetoric 
it  is.  to  be  observed  that  it  divides  itself  into  two  ;  first, 
whether  oratorical  skill  be,  on  the  whole,  a  public 
benefit,  or  evil ;  and  secondly,  whether  any  artificial 
system  of  rules  is  conducive  to  the  attainment  of  that 
skill. 

The  former  of  these  questions  was  eagerly  debated 
among  the  ancients ;  on  the  latter,  but  little  doubt  seems 
to  have  existed.  With  us,  on  the  contrary,  the  state 
of  these  questions  seems  nearly  reversed.  It  seems 
generally  admitted  that  skill  in  Composition  and  in 
Speaking,  liable  as  it  evidently  is  to  abuse,  is  to  be  con- 
sidered, on  the  whole,  as  advantageous  to  the  public ; 
because  that  liability  to  abuse  is,  neither  in  this*  nor  in 


U  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  4 

any  other  case,  to  be  considered  as  conclusive  against 
the  utility  of  any  kind  of  art,  faculty,  or  profession  ; — 
because  the  evil  effects  of  misdirected  power  require  that 
equal  powers  should  be  arrayed  on  the  opposite  side ; — 
and  because  truth,  having  an  intrinsic  superiority  over 
falsehood,  may  be  expected  to  prevail  when  the  skill  of 
the  contending  parties  is  equal ;  which  will  be  the  more 
likely  to  take  place,  the  more  widely  such  skill  is 
diffused.*  But  many,  perhaps  most  persons,  are  inclined 
to  the  opinion  that  Eloquence,  either  in  writing  or 
speaking,  is  either  a  natural  gift,  or,  at  least,  is  to  be 
acquired  by  mere  practice,  and  is  not  to  be  attained  or 
improved  by  any  system  of  rules.  And  this  opinion  is 
favoured  not  least  by  those  (as  has  been  just  observed) 
whose  own  experience  would  enable  them  to  decide  very 
differently ;  and  it  certainly  seems  to  be  in  a  great  degree 
practically  adopted.  Most  persons,  if  not  left  entirely 
to  the  disposal  of  chance,  in  respect  of  this  branch  of 
education,  are  at  least  left  to  acquire  what  they  can  by 
practice,  such  as  school  or  college-exercises  afford, 
without  much  care  being  taken  to  initiate  them  syste- 
matically into  the  principles  of  the  art ;  and  that,  fre- 
quently, not  so  much  from  negligence  in  the  conductors 
of  education,  as  from  their  doubts  of  the  utility  of  any 
such  regular  system. 

Erroneous  ^  certamly  must  be  admitted,  that  rules 
systems  of  not  considered  on  broad  philosophical  prin- 
rules.  ciples,  are  more  likely  to  cramp  than  to  assist 

the  operations  of  our  faculties ; — that  a  pedantic  display 
of  technical  skill  is  more  detrimental  in  this  than  in  any 
other  pursuit,  since  by  exciting  distrust,  it  counteracts 

*  Aris.  Rhet.  ch.  1 — He  might  have  gone  further ;  far  it  will 
very  often  happen  that,  before  a  popular  audience,  a  greater  degrea 
of  skill  is  requisite  for  maintaining  the  cause  of  truth  than  of  false- 
hood. There  are  cases  in  which  the  arguments  which  lie  most  on 
the  surface,  and  are,  to  superficial  reasoners,  the  most  easily  set 
forth  in  a  plausible  form,  are  those  on  the  wrong  side.  It  is  often 
difficult  to  a  writer,  and  still  more,  to  a  speaker,  to  point  out  and 
exhibit,  in  their  full  strength,  the  delicate  distinctions  on  whici 
truth  sometimes  depends. 


*  4  J  INTRODUCTION.  26 

Ike  very  purpose  of  it ; — that  a  system  of  rules  imper- 
fectly comprehended,  or  not  familiarized  by  practice 
will  (while  that  continues  to  be  the  case)  prove  rathei 
an  impediment  than  a  help  ;  as  indeed  will  be  found  in 
all  other  arts  likewise ; — and  that  no  system  can  be  ex 
pected  to  equalize  men  whose  natural  powers  are  dif 
ferent.  But  none  of  these  concessions  at  all  invalidate 
the  positions  of  Aristotle ;  that  some  succeed  better  thai 
others  in  explaining  their  opinions,  and  bringing  ovei 
others  to  them ;  and  that,  not  merely  by  superiority  oi 
natural  gifts,  but  by  acquired  habit ;  and  that  conse- 
quently if  we  can  discover  the  causes  of  this  superior 
success — the  means  by  which  the  desired  end  is  attain- 
ed by  all  who  do  attain  it — we  shall  be  in  possession  oj 
rules  capable  of  general  application :  which  is,  says  he, 
the  proper  office  of  an  art.*  Experience  so  plainly 
evinces,  what  indeed  we  might  naturally  be  led  antece- 
dently to  conjecture,  that  a  right  judgment  on  any  sub- 
ject is  not  necessarily  accompanied  by  skill  in  effecting 
conviction — nor  the  ability  to  discover  truth,  by  a  faci- 
lity in  explaining  it — that  it  might  be  matter  of  wonder 
how  any  doubt  should  ever  have  existed  as  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  devising,  and  the  utility  of  employing,  a  sys- 
tem of  rules  for  "  Argumentative  Composition,"  gene- 
rally ;  distinct  from  any  system  conversant  about  the 
subject-matter  of  each  composition. 

It  is  probable  that  the  existing  prejudices  on  this  sub- 
ject may  be  traced  in  great  measure  to  the  imperfect  or 
incorrect  notions  of  some  writers,  who  have  either  con- 
fined their  attention  to  trifling  minutiae  of  style,  or  at 
least  have  in  some  respect  failed  to  take  a  sufficiently 
comprehensive  view  of  the  principles  of  the  art.  One 
distinction  especially  is  to  be  clearly  laid  down  and  care- 
fully borne  in  mind  by  those  who  would  form  a  correct 
idea  of  those  principles ;  viz.  the  distinction  already 
noticed  in  the  Elements  of  Logic,  between  an  art,  and 
the  art.     "An  Art  of  Reasoning"  would  imply,  "a 

*  "Q-trtp  ten  rsxviii  Ifiyov.. — Rhet.  booki.  ch.  1. 
3 


26  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [$  4. 

Method  or  System  of  Rules  by  the  observance  of  which 
one  may  reason  correctly  ;"  "  the  Art  of  Reasoning," 
would  imply  a  system  of  rules  to  which  every  one  does 
conform  (whether  knowingly,  or  not.)  who  reasons 
correctly  :  and  such  is  Logic,  considered  as  an  art. 

A  rightly-  In  like  manner  "  an  Art  of  Composition  w 
lormed  sys-  would  imply  "  a  System  of  Rules  by  which 
not  cramp  a  £°°d  Composition  may  be  produced ;"  "  the 
the  natural  Art  of  Composition," — "  such  rules  as  event, 
powers.  g00(j  Composition  must  conform  to,"  whether 
the  author  of  it  had  them  in  his  mind  or  not.  Of  the 
former  character  appear  to  have  been  (among  others) 
many  of  the  logical  and  rhetorical  systems  of  Aristotle'? 
predecessors  in  those  departments.  He  himself  evident- 
ly takes  the  other  and  more  philosophical  view  of  both 
branches :  as  appears  (in  the  case  of  Rhetoric)  both  from 
the  plan  he  sets  out  with,  that  of  investigating  the 
causes  of  the  success  of  all  who  do  succeed  in  effecting 
conviction,  and  from  several  passages  occurring  in  va- 
rious parts  of  his  treatise ;  which  indicate  how  sedu- 
lously he  was  on  his  guard  to  conform  to  that  plan. 
Those  who  have  not  attended  to  the  important  distinc- 
tion just  alluded  to,  are  often  disposed  to  feel  wonder, 
if  not  weariness,  at  his  reiterated  remarks,  that  "  all 
men  effect  persuasion  either  in  this  way  or  in  that ;" 
"  it  is  impossible  to  attain  such  and  such  an  object  in 
any  other  way;"  &c.  which  doubtless  were  intended  to 
remind  his  readers  of  the  nature  of  his  design  ;  viz.  not 
to  teach  an  Art  of  Rhetoric,  but  the  Art; — not  to  in- 
struct them  merely  how  conviction  might  be  produced, 
but  how  it  must. 

If  this  distinction  were  carefully  kept  in  view  by  the 
teacher  and  by  the  learner  of  Rhetoric,  we  should  no 
longer  hear  complaints  of  the  natural  powers  being  fet- 
tered by  the  formalities  of  a  system ;  since  no  such  com- 
plaint can  lie  against  a  system  whose  rules  are  drawn 
from  the  invariable  practice  of  all  who  succeed  in  at- 
taining their  proposed  object. 


§  5.]  INTRODUCTION.  27 

No  one  would  expect  that  the  study  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds'  lectures  would  cramp  the  genius  of  the  paint* 
er.  No  one  complains  of  the  rules  of  Grammar  as  fet- 
tering language ;  because  it  is  understood  thaj;  correct 
use  is  not  founded  on  Grammar,  but  Grammar  on  cor- 
rect  use.  A  just  system  of  Logic  or  of  Rhetoric  is  ana- 
logous, in  this  respect,  to  Grammar. 

§  5.  The  chief  reason  probably  for  the  Exercises  in 
existing  prejudice  against  technical  systems  Composition, 
of  composition,  is  to  be  found  in  the  cramped,  meagre, 
and  feeble  character  of  most  of  such  essays,  &c,  as  are 
avowedly  composed  according  to  the  rules  of  any  such 
system.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  in  the  first 
olace,  that  these  are  almost  invariably  the  productions 
of  learners;  it  being  usual  for  those  who  have  attained 
proficiency,  either  to  write  without  thinking  of  any 
rules,  or  to  be  desirous,  (as  has  been  said,)  and,  by  their 
increased  expertness,  able,  to  conceal  their  employment 
of  art.  Now  it  is  not  fair  to  judge  of  the  value  of  any 
system  of  rules,  those  of  a  drawing-master  for  instance, 
from  the  first  awkward  sketches  of  tyros  in  the  art. 

Still  less  would  it  be  fair  to  judge  of  one  system,  from 
the  ill-success  of  another,  whose  rules  were  framed  (as 
is  the  case  with  those  ordinarily  laid  down  for  the  use 
of  students  in  Composition)  on  narrow,  unphilosophical, 
and  erroneous  principles. 

But  the  circumstance  which  has  mainly  Difficulty  in 
tended  to  produce  the  complaint  alluded  to,  skion°mPof 
is,  that  in  this  case,  the  reverse  takes  place  exercises, 
of  the  plan  pursued  in  the  learning  of  other  arts ;  in 
which  it  is  usual  to  begin,  for  the  sake  of  practice,  with 
what  is  easiest;  here,  on  the  contrary,  the  tyro  has 
usually  a  harder  task  assigned  him,  and  one  in  which 
he  is  less  likely  to  succeed,  than  he  will  meet  with  in 
the  actual  business  of  life.  For  it  is  undeniable  that  it 
is  much  the  most  difficult  to  find  either  propositions  to 
maintain,  or  arguments  to  prove  them — to  know,  in 
short,  what  to  say,  or  how  to  say  it — on  any  subject  on 


23  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  5. 

which  one  has  hardly  any  information,  and  no  interest; 
about  which  he  knows  little,  and  cares  still  less. 

Now  the  subjects  usually  proposed  for  school  or  col- 
lege-exercises are  (to  the  learners  themselves)  precisely 
of  this  description.  And  hence  it  commonly  happens, 
that  an  exercise  composed  with  diligent  care  by  a  young 
student,  though  it  will  have  cost  him  far  more  pains 
than  a  real  letter  written  by  him  to  his  friends,  on  sub- 
jects that  interest  him,  will  be  very  greatly  inferior  to 
it.  On  the  real  occasions  of  after  life,  (I  mean,  when 
the  object  proposed  is,  not  to  fill  up  a  sheet,  a  book,  or 
an  hour,  but  to  communicate  his  thoughts,  to  convince, 
or  persuade) — on  these  real  occasions,  for  which  such 
exercises  were  designed  to  prepare  him,  he  will  find  that 
he  writes  both  better,  and  with  more  facility,  than  on 
the  artificial  occasion,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  compos- 
ing a  declamation  ; — that  he  has  been  attempting  to  learn 
the  easier,  by  practising  the  harder. 
Ill  effects  But  what  is  worse,  it  will  often  happen  that 
resulting  such  exercises  will  have  formed  a  habit  of 
?rom  exer-  stringing  together  empty  common-places,  and 
vapid  declamations — of  multiplying  words 
and  spreading  out  the  matter  thin — of  composing  in  a 
stiff,  artificial,  and  frigid  manner :  and  that  this  habit 
will  more  or  less  cling  through  life  to  one  who  has  been 
thus  trained,  and  will  infect  all  his  future  compositions. 

So  strongly,  it  should  seem,  was  Milton  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  this  danger,  that  he  was  led  to  condemn 
the  use  altogether  of  exercises  in  Composition.  In  this 
opinion  he  stands  perhaps  alone  among  all  writers  on 
education.  I  should  perhaps  agree  with  him,  if  there 
were  absolutely  no  other  remedy  for  the  evil  in  question ; 
for  T  am  inclined  to  think  that  this  part  of  education, 
if  conducted  as  it  often  is,  does  in  general  more  harm 
than  good.  But  I  am  convinced,  that  practice  in  Com- 
position, both  for  boys  and  young  men,  may  be  so  con- 
ducted as  to  be  productive  of  many  and  most  essential 
advantages. 


f  5.]  INTRODUCTION.  ft 

The  obvious  and  the  only  preventive  of  Selection 
the  evils  which  1  have  been  speaking  of  is  a  of  subjects, 
most  scrupulous  care  in  the  selection  of  such  subjects 
for  exercises  as  are  likely  to  be  interesting  to  the  stu- 
dent, and  on  which  he  has,  or  may  (with  pleasure,  and 
without  much  toil)  acquire,  sufficient  information.  Such 
subjects  will  of  course  vary,  according  to  the  learner's 
age  and  intellectual  advancement ;  but  they  had  better 
be  rather  below,  than  much  above  him ;  that  is,  they 
should  never  be  such  as  to  induce  him  to  siring  together 
vague  general  expressions,  conveying  no  distinct  ideas 
to  his  own  mind,  and  second-hand  sentiments  which  he 
does  not  feel.  He  may  freely  transplant  indeed  from 
other  writers  such  thoughts  as  will  take  root  in  the  soil 
of  his  own  mind ;  but  he  must  never  be  tempted  to  col- 
lect dried  specimens.  He  must  also  be  encouraged  to 
express  himself  (in  correct  language  indeed,  but)  in  a 
free,  natural,  and  simple  style  ;  which  of  course  implies 
(considering  who  and  what  the  writer  is  supposed  to 
be)  such  a  style  as,  in  itself,  wrould  be  open  to  severe 
criticism,  and  certainly  very  unlit  to  appear  in  a  book. 

Compositions  on  such  subjects,  and  in  such  a  style, 
would  probably  be  regarded  wTith  a  disdainful  eye,  aa 
puerile,  by  those  accustomed  to  the  opposite  mode  oi 
teaching.  But  it  should  be  remembered  that  the  com- 
positions of  boys  must  be  puerile,  in  one  way  or  the 
other :  and  to  a  person  of  unsophisticated  and  sound 
taste,  the  truly  contemptible  kind  of  puerility  would  bo 
found  in  the  other  kind  of  exercises.  Look  at  the  letter 
of  an  intelligent  youth  to  one  of  his  companions,  com- 
municating intelligence  of  such  petty  matters  as  are  in- 
teresting to  both — describing  the  scenes  he  has  visited, 
and  the  recreations  he  has  enjoyed,  during  a  vacation; 
and  you  will  see  a  picture  of  the  youth  himself — boyish 
indeed  in  looks  and  in  stature — in  dress  and  demeanour . 
but  lively,  unfettered,  natural,  giving  a  fair  promise  foi 
manhood,  and,  in  short,  what  a  boy  should  be.  Look 
&t  a  theme  composed  by  the  same  youth,  on  "  Virtua 


30  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [§  3 

est  medium  vitiorum,"  or  "  Natura  beatis  omnibus  esse 
dedit,"  and  you  will  see  a  picture,  of  the  same  boy, 
dressed  up  in  the  garb,  and  absurdly  aping  the  demean- 
our of  an  elderly  man.  Our  ancestors  (and  still  more 
recently,  I  believe,  the  continental  nations)  were  guilty 
of  the  absurdity  of  dressing  up  children  in  wigs,  swords, 
huge  buckles,  hoops,  ruffles,  and  all  the  elaborate  full- 
dressed  finery  of  grown  up  people  of  that  day.*  Tt  is 
surely  reasonable  that  the  analogous  absurdity  in 
greater  matters  also — among  the  rest  in  that  part  of 
education  I  am  speaking  of — should  be  laid  aside ;  and 
that  we  should  in  all  points  consider  what  is  appropriate 
to  each  different  period  of  life. 

classes  of  The  subjects  for  composition  to  be  se- 
subjects  for  lected  on  the  principle  I  am  recommending, 
will  generally  fall  under  one  of  three  classes : 
first,  subjects  drawn  from  the  studies  the  learner  is  en- 
gaged in ;  relating,  for  instance,  to  the  characters  or 
incidents  of  any  history  he  may  be  reading;  and,  some- 
times, perhaps,  leading  him  to  forestall  by  conjecture, 
something  which  he  will  hereafter  come  to,  in  the  book 
itself  :  secondly,  subjects  drawn  from  anv  conversation 
he  may  have  listened  to  {with  interest)  irom  his  seniors, 
whether  addressed  to  himself,  or  between  each  other: 
or,  thirdly,  relating  to  the  amusements,  familiar  occur- 
rences, and  every-day  transactions,  which  are  likely  to 
have  formed  the  topics  of  easy  conversation  among  hi*? 
familiar  friends.  The  student  should  not  be  confh?«% 
too  exclusively  to  any  one  of  these  three  classes  of  sub~ 
jects.  They  should  be  intermingled  in  as  much  variety 
as  possible.  And  the  teacher  should  frequently  recall 
to  his  own  mind  these  two  considerations ;  first,  that 
since  the  benefit  proposed  does  not  consist  in  the  intrinsic 
value  of  the  composition,  but  in  the  exercise  to  the 
pupil's  mind,  it  matters  not  how  insignificant  the  sub- 
ject may  be,  if  it  will  but  interest  him,  and  thereby 
afford  him  such  exercise ;  secondly,  that  the  youngel 
*  See  "  Sandford  and  Morton,"  passim 


§  6.J  INTRODUCTION.  31 

and  backwarder  each  student  is,  the  more  unfit  he  will 
be  for  abstract  speculations :  and  the  less  remote  must 
be  the  subjects  proposed  fr  *ia  those  individual  objects 
and  occurrences  which  a'vvays  form  the  first  beginnings 
of  the  furniture  of  the  youthful  mind.* 

If  the  system  which  I  have  been  recommending  be 
pursued,  with  the  addition  of  sedulous  care  in  correc- 
tion— encouragement  from  the  teacher — and  inculcation 
of  such  general  rules  as  each  occasion  calls  for ;  then, 
and  not  otherwise,  Exercises  in  Composition  will  be  of 
the  most  important  and  lasting  advantage  ;  not  only  in 
respect  of  the  object  immediately  proposed,  but  in  pro- 
ducing clearness  of  thought,  and  in  giving  play  to  all 
the  faculties.  And  if  this  branch  of  education  be  thus 
conducted,  then,  and  not  otherwise,  the  greater  part  of 
the  present  treatise  will,  it  is  hoped,  be  found,  not  much 
/ess  adapted  to  the  use. of  those  who  are  writing  for 
practice-sake,  than  of  those  engaged  in  meeting  the  oc- 
casions of  real  life. 

§  6.  One  kind  of  exercise  there  is — that  of  Debating- 
Debating-Societies— which  ought  not  per-  Societies, 
haps  to  be  passed  unnoticed,  as  different  opinions 
prevail  respecting  its  utility.  It  is  certainly  free  from 
the  objections  which  lie  against  the  ordinary  mode  of 
theme-writing ;  since  the  subjects  discussed  are  usually 
such  as  the  speakers  feel  a  real  interest  in.  But  to 
young  persons  I  think  the  exercise  generally  more 
hurtful  than  beneficial.  When  their  faculties  are  in  an 
immature  state,  and  their  knowledge  scanty,  crude,  and 
imperfectly  arranged,  if  they  are  prematurely  hurried 
into  a  habit  of  fluent  elocution,  they  are  likely  to  retain 
through  life  a  careless  facility  of  pouring  forth  ill-di- 
gested thoughts  in  well-turned  phrases,  and  an  aversion 
to  cautious  reflection.  For  when  a  man  has  acquired 
that  habit  of  ready  extemporaneous  speaking  which 

*  For  some  observations  relative  to  the  learning  of  Elocution, 
gee  Part  iv.  chap.  iv.  §  2.  See  also  some  valuable,  remarks  on  the 
subject  of  exercises  in  composition,  in  Mr  Hill's  ingenious  work 
on  Public  Education. 


83  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC  ft  6. 

consists  in  thinking  extempore,  both  his  indolence  and 
self-confidence  will  indispose  him  for  the  toil  of  carefully 
preparing  his  matter,  and  of  forming  for  himself,  by 
practice  in  writing,  a  precise  and  truly  energetic  style : 
and  he  will  have  been  qualifying  himself  only  for  the 
"lion's  part"*  in  the  interlude  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  want  of  readiness  of  expression, 
in  a  man  of  well-disciplined  mind,  who  has  attentively 
studied  his  subject,  is  a  fault  much  more  curable  by 
practice,  even  late  in  life,  than  the  opposite. 

Although  however  I  am  convinced  that  an  early-ac- 
quired habit  of  empty  fluency  is  adverse  to  a  man's  suc- 
cess as  an  orator,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say,  that,  as 
an  orator,  his  attaining  the  very  highest  degree  of  suc- 
cess will  be  the  more  likely,  from  his  possessing  ths 
most  philosophical  mind,  trained  to  the  most  scrupu- 
lous accuracy  of  investigation.  Inestimable  )n  othei 
respects  as  such  an  endowment  is,  and  certainly  com- 
patible with  very  great  eloquence,  I  doubt  whether  the 
highest  degree  of  it  is  compatible  with  the  highest  de- 
gree of  general  oratorical  power.  If  at  least  he  is  to 
be  accounted  the  most  perfect  orator,  who  (as  Cicero 
lays  down)  can  speak  the  best  and  most  persuasively 
on  any  question  whatever  that  may  arise,  it  may  fairly 
be  doubted  whether  a,  first-rate  man  can  be  a  first-rale 
orator.  He  may  indeed  speak  admirably  in  a  matter 
he  has  well  considered ;  but  when  any  new  subject,  or 
new  point,  is  started  in  the  course  of  a  debate,  though 
he  may  take  a  juster  view  of  it  at  the  first  glance,  on 
the  exigency  of  the  moment,  than  any  one  else  could, 
he  will  not  fail — as  a  man  of  more  superficial  clever- 
ness would — to  perceive  how  impossible  it  must  be  to 
do  full  justice  to  a  subject  demanding  more  reflection 
and  inquiry  ;  nor  can  he  therefore  place  himself  fully  on 
a  level,  in  such  a  case,  with  one  of  shallower  mind, 

*  "Snug. — Have  you  the  Lion's  part  written?  Pray  you,  if  ft 
be,  give  it  me  ;  for  I  am  slow  of  study. 

"  Quince. — You  may  do  it  extempore;  for  it  is  nothing  but  re& 
ins." — Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 


Part  I.]  OF  CONVICTION.  33 

who  being  in  all  cases,  less  able  to  look  beneath  the 
surface  of  things,  obtains  at  the  first  glance  the  best 
view  Ac  can  take  of  am/ subject ;  and  therefore  can  dis- 
play without  any  need  of  artifice,  that  easy  unembar- 
rassed confidence  which  can  never  be  with  equal  effect, 
assumed.  To  speak  perfectly  well,  in  short,  a  man  must 
feel  that  he  has  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject ;  and 
to  feel  this,  on  occasions  where,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  it  is  impossible  he  really  can  have  done  so,  is 
inconsistent  with  the  character  of  great  profundity. 


PART   I. 


OF  THE  INVENTION,  ARRANGEMENT,  AND  INTRO- 
DUCTION  OF  PROPOSITIONS  AND  ARGUMENTS 


Chap.  I. — Of  Propositions. 

§  1.  It  was  remarked  in  the  Treatise  on  inqu;ryai. 
Logic,  that  in  the  process  of  Investigation  pro-  ter  Truth 
perly  so  called,  viz.  that  by  which  we  endea-  ^dj^ntg 
vour  to  discover  truth,  it  must  of  course  be  un-  distinguish 
certain  to  him  who  is  entering  on  that  process,  ed- 
what  the  conclusion  will  be  to  which  his  researches 
will  lead ;  but  that  in  the  process  of  conveying  truth 
to  others  by  reasoning,  (*'.  e.  in  what  may  be  termed, 
according  to  the  view  1  have  at  present  taken*,  the  rhe- 
torical process,)  the  conclusion  or  conclusions  which 
are  to  be  established  must  be  present  to  the  mind  of  him 
who  is  conducting  the  Argument,  and  whose  business 
is  to  find  Proofs  of  a  given  proposition. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  first  step  to  be  taken 
by  him,  is  to  lay  down  distinctly  in  his  own  mind  the 
proposition  or  propositions  to  be  proved.     It  might  in- 


J4  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [Part  i 

deed  at  first  sight  appear  superfluous  even  to  mention 
so  obvious  a  rule ;  but  experience  shows  that  it  is  by 
no  means  uncommon  for  a  young  or  ill-instructed  wri- 
ter to  content  himself  with  such  a  vague  and  indistincl 
view  of  the  point  he  is  to  aim  at,  that  the  whole  train 
of  his  reasoning  is  in  consequence  affected  with  a  cor- 
responding perplexity,  obscurity,  and  looseness.  It  may 
be  worth  while  therefore  to  give  some  hints  for  the  con- 
duct of  this  preliminary  process — the  choice  of  propo- 
sitions. Not,  of  course,  that  I  am  supposing  the  author 
to  be  in  doubt  what  opinion  he  shall  adopt ;  the  pro- 
cess of  Investigation*  (which  does  not  fall  within  the 
province  of  Rhetoric)  being  supposed  to  be  concluded; 
but  still  there  will  often  be  room  for  deliberation  as  to 
the  form  in  which  an  opinion  shall  be  stated,  and,  when 
several  propositions  are  to  be  maintained,  in  what  order 
they  shall  be  placed. 

Conviction  ®n  tn*s  nea<^  therefore  I  shall  proceed  to 
and  in  propose  some  rules ;  after  having  premised 
struction.  ^n  or(jer  to  anticipate  some  objections  or 
doubts  which  might  arise)  one  remark  relative  to  the  ob- 
ject to  be  effected.  This  is,  of  course,  what  may  be 
called  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  Conviction  ;  but 
under  that  term  are  comprehended,  first,  what  is  strictly 
called  Instruction;  and,  secondly,  Conviction  in  the 
narrower  sense  ;  i.  e.  the  Conviction  of  those  who  are 
either  of  a  contrary  opinion  to  the  one  maintained,  or 
who  are  in  doubt  whether  to  admit  or  deny  it.  By  In- 
struction, on  the  other  hand,  is  commonly  meant  the 
conviction  of  those  who  have  neither  formed  an  opin- 
ion on  the  subject,  nor  are  deliberating  whether  to  adopt 
or  reject  the  proposition  in  question,  but  are  merely  de- 
sirous of  ascertaining  what  is  the  truth  in  respect  of  the 
case  before  them.  The  former  are  supposed  to  have 
before  their  minds  the  terms  of  the  proposition  main- 
tained, and  are  called  upon  to  consider  whether  that  par- 
ticular proposition  be  true  or  false;  the  latter  are  not 
*  Logic,  book  iv.  chap.  3\  2. 


Chap.  I.  §  2.]  OF  CONVICTION.  85 

supposed  to  know  the  terms  of  the  conclusion,  but  to 
be  inquiring  what  proposition  is  to  be  received  as  true. 
The  former  may  be  described,  in  logical  language,  as 
doubting  respecting  the  Copula;  the  latter,  respecting 
the  Predicate.  It  is  evident  that  the  speaker  or  writer 
la,  i elaiivery  to  mese  last,  (Uiough  not  to  himself,)  con- 
ducting a  process  of  Investigation ;  as  is  plain  from 
what  has  been  said  of  that  subject,  :r.  the  treatise  on 
Logic. 

The  distinction  between  these  two  objects  gives  rise 
in  some  points  to  corresponding  differences  in  the  mode 
of  procedure,  which  will  be  noticed  hereafter ;  these 
differences  however  are  not  sufficient  to  require  that 
Rhetoric  should  on  that  account  be  divided  into  two  dis- 
tinct branches ;  since,  generally  speaking,  though  not 
universally,  the  same  rules  will  be  serviceable  for  at- 
iaining  each  of  these  objects. 

§  2.  The  first  step  is,  as  I  have  observed,  to  lay 
down  (in  the  author's  mind)  the  proposition  or  proposi- 
tions to  be  maintained,  clearly,  and  in  a  suitable  form. 

He  who  strictly  observes  this  rule,  and  who  is  thus 
brought  to  view  steadily  the  point  he  is  aiming  at,  will 
be  kept  clear,  in  a  great  degree,  of  some  common  faults 
of  young  writers ;  viz.  entering  on  too  wide  a  field  of  dis- 
cussion, and  introducing  many  propositions  not  suffi- 
ciently connected ;  an  error  which  destroys  the  unity  of 
the  composition.  This  last  error  those  are 
apt  to  fall  into,  who  place  before  themselves  J0neesSubjnot 
a  Term  instead  of  a  Proposition;  and  ima-  imply  unity 
gine  that  because  they  are  treating  of  one  °.f  composi 
thing,  they  are  discussing  one  question.  In 
an  ethical  work,  for  instance,  one  may  be  treating  of  vir- 
tue, while  discussing  all  or  any  one  of  these  questions .; 
"  Wherein  virtue  consists  ?"  "  Whence  our  notions  of 
it  arise  ?"  "  Whence  it  derives  its  obligation  ?"  &c. ; 
but  if  these  questions  were  confusedly  blended  together, 
or  if  all  of  them  were  treated  of,  within  a  short  com- 
pass, the  most  jus*  remarks  and  forcible  arguments 


16  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  L 

would  lose  their  interest  and  their  utility,  in  so  perplex- 
ed a  composition. 

Nearly  akin  to  this  fault  is  the  other  just  mentioned, 
that  of  entering  on  too  wide  a  field  for  the  length  of  the 
work  ;  by  which  means  the  writer  is  confined  to  barren 
and  uninteresting  generalities :  as  e.  g.  general  exhor- 
tations to  virtue  (conveyed,  of  course,  in  very  general 
terms)  in  the  space  of  a  discourse  only  of  sufficient 
length  to  give  a  characteristic  description  of  some  one 
branch  of  duty,  or  of  some  one  particular  motive  to  the 
Copiousness  practice  of  it.  Unpractised  composers  are 
of  matter  apt  to  fancy  that  they  shall  have  the  greater 
byrmas  ^e-  abundance  of  matter,  the  wider  extent  of  sub- 
stricted  ject  they  comprehend ;  but  experience  shows 
view.  that  the  reverse  is  the  fact :  the  more  gene- 

ral and  extensive  view  will  often  suggest  nothing  to  the 
mind  but  vague  and  trite  remarks ;  when,  upon  narrow- 
ing the  field  of  discussion,  many  interesting  questions 
of  detail  present  themselves.  Now  a  writer  who  is  ac- 
customed to  state  to  himself  precisely,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, the  conclusions  to  which  he  is  tending,  will  be 
the  less  likely  to  content  himself  with  such  as  consist 
of  very  general  statements ;  and  will  often  be  led,  even 
where  an  extensive  view  is  at  first  proposed,  to  distri- 
bute it  into  several  branches,  and,  waiving  the  discus- 
sion of  the  rest,  to  limit  himself  to  the  full  development 
of  one  or  two  ;  and  thus  applying,  as  it  were,  a  micro- 
scope to  a  small  space,  will  present  to  the  view  much 
that  a  wider  survey  would  not  have  exhibited. 
I  .  af-  §  3.  It  may  be  useful  for  one  who  is  about 
ter  proposi-  thus  to  lay  down  his  propositions,  to  ask 
tions.  himself  these  three  questions :  first,  what  m 

the  fact  ?  secondly,  why*  (*.  e.  from  what  Cause)  is  it 
bo  ?  or,  in  other  words,  how  is  it  accounted  for  ?  ami 
thirdly,  what  consequence  results  from  it  ? 

The  last  two  of  these  questions,  though  they  will  not 
in  every  case  suggest  such  answers  as  are  strictly  to  be 
»  See  Logic.    Appendix.    Article,  "  Why," 


Chap  II.  §  I.}      OF  CONVICTION.  37 

called  the  Cause  and  the  Consequence  of  the  principal 
truth  to  be  maintained,  may,  at  least,  often  furnish  such 
propositions  as  bsar  a  somewhat  similar  relation  to  it. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  in  recommending  the  write; 
to  begin  by  laying  down  in  his  own  mind  the  proposi 
lions  to  be  maintained,  it  is  not  meant  to  be  implied  that 
they  are  always  to  be  stated  first ;  that  will  depend  upon 
the  nature  of  the  case ;  and  rules  will  hereafter  be  given 
on  that  point. 

It  is  to  be  observed  also,  that  by  the  words  "  propo- 
sition," or  "  assertion,"  throughout  this  Treatise,  is  to 
be  understood  some  conclusion  to  be  established/or  it- 
self;  not,  with  a  view  to  an  ulterior  conclusion  :  those 
propositions  which  are  intended  to  serve  as  premises, 
being  called,  in  allowable  conformity  with  popular 
usage,  arguments  ;  it  being  customary  to  argue  in  the 
enthymematic  form,  and  to  call,  for  brevity's  sake,  the 
expressed  premiss  of  an  enthymeme,  the  argument  bv 
which  the  conclusion  of  it  is  proved.* 


Chap.  II. — Of  Arguments. 

§  1.  Tut.  finding  of  suitable  arguments  proper  pro 
to  prove  a  given  point,  and  the  skilful  ar-  vince  of 
rangement  of  them,  may  be  considered  as  Rhetonc- 
the  immediate  and  proper  province  of  Rhetoric,  and  of 
that  alone,  f 

The  business  of  Logic  is,  as  Cicero  complains,  to 
judge  of  arguments,  not  to  invent  them  :  ("in  inveni- 

*  Logic,  book  i.  §2. 

t  Aristotle's  division  of  Persuasives  into  "  artificial"  and  "  inar- 
tificial," {fivTtxvoi  and  cltzxvoi)  including  under  the  latter  head, 
"  Witnesses,  Laws,  Contracts,'1  &c.  is  strangely  unphilosophical. 
The  one  class,  he  says,  the  Orator  is  to  make  use  of  ;  the  other,  to 
devise.  But  it  is  evident  that,  in  all  cases  alike,  the  data  we  argue 
from  must  be  something  already  existing,  and  which  we  are  not  to 
make,  but  to  use  ;  and  that  the  arguments  derived  from  these  data 
are  the  work  of  art.  Whether  these  data  are  general  maxims  or 
particular  testimony — Laws  of  Nature,  or  Laws  of  the  Land — 
makes,  in  this  respect,  no  difference. 


38  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Pa*t  J 

endis  argumentis  muta  nimium  est ;  in  judicandis,  ni- 
mium  ioquax." — Cic.  de  Orat.)  The  knowledge,  again, 
in  each  case,  of  the  subject  in  hand,  is  essential;  but  it 
is  evidently  borrowed  from  the  science  or  system  con- 
versant about  that  subject-matter,  whether  Politics, 
Theology,  Law,  Ethics,  or  any  other  The  art  of  ad- 
dressing the  feelings,  again,  does  not  belong  exclusive- 
ly to  Rhetoric;  since  Poetry  has  at  least  as  much  to  do 
with  that  branch.  Nor  are  the  considerations  relative  to 
Style  and  Elocution  confined  to  argumentative  and  per- 
suasive compositions.  The  art  of  inventing  and  ar- 
ranging Arguments  is,  as  has  been  said,  the  only  pro- 
vince that  Rhetoric  can  claim  entirely  and  exclusively 
Various  di-  Arguments  are  divided  according  to  sever* 
visions  of  al  different  principles ;  i.  e.  logically  speaking, 
arguments.  tj]ere  are  sevemi  divisions  of  them.  And 
these  cross-divisions  have  proved  a  source  of  endless 
perplexity  to  the  logical  and  rhetorical  student,  because 
there  is  perhaps  no  writer  on  either  subject  that  has 
been  aware  of  their  character.  Hardly  any  thing  per- 
haps has  contributed  so  much  to  lessen  the  interest  and 
the  utility  of  systems  of  Rhetoric,  as  the  indistinctness 
hence  resulting.  When  in  any  subject  the  members  of 
a  division  are  not  opposed,  but  are  in  fact  members  of 
different  divisions,  crossing  each  other,  it  is  manifestly 
impossible  to  obtain  any  clear  notion  of  the  species  treat- 
ed of;  nor  will  any  labour  or  ingenuity  bestowed  on 
the  subject  be  of  the  least  avail,  till  the  original  source 
of  perplexity  is  removed ; — till,  in  short,  the  cross-divi- 
sion is  detected  and  explained. 

Arguments  then  may  be  divided, 

First,  into  Irregular,  and  Regular,  i.  e  Syllogisms ; 
these  last  into  Categorical  and  Hypothetical  ;  and  the 
Categorical,  into  Syllogisms  in  the  first  Figure,  and  in 
the  other  Figures,  &c.  &c. 

Secondly,  They  are  frequently  divided  into  "  Moral," 
[or  "Probable,"]  and  "Demonstrative,"  [or  "N©> 
cessarv  " 


Shap  II  §1.]        OF  CONVICTION.  39 

Thirdly,  into  "  Direct,"  and  "  Indirect ;"  (or  reductio 
ad  absurdum,) — the  Deictic,  and  Elenctic,  of  Aristotle. 

Fourthly,  into  Arguments  from  "Example,"  from 
"Testimony,"  from  "  Cause  to  Effect,"  from  "Analo- 
gy," &c.  &c. 

"  It  will  be  perceived,  on  attentive  examination,  that 
several  of  the  different  species  just  mentioned  will  oc- 
casionally contain  each  other ;  e.  g.  a  Probable  Argu- 
ment may  be  at  the  same  time  a  Categorical  Argument, 
a  Direct  Argument,  and  an  Argument  from  Testimony, 
&».  ;  this  being  the  consequence  of  Arguments  having 
been  divided  on  several  different  principles ;  a  circum- 
stance so  obvious  the  moment  it  is  distinctly  stated,  that 
f  apprehend  such  of  my  readers  as  have  not  been  con- 
versant in  these  studies  will  hardly  be  disposed  to  be- 
lieve that  it  could  have  been  (as  is  the  fact)  generally 
overlooked,  and  that  eminent  writers  should  in  conse- 
quence have  been  involved  in  inextricable  confusion.  I 
need  only  remind  them  however  of  the  anecdote  of  Co- 
lumbus breaking  the  egg.  That  which  is  perfectly  ob- 
vious to  any  man  of  common  sense,  as  soon  as  it  is 
mentioned,  may  nevertheless  fail  to  occur,  even  to  men 
of  considerable  ingenuity. 

It  will  also  be  readily  perceived,  on  exam-  Division  cf 
ining  the  principles  of  these  several  divisions,  forms  of  Ar 
that  the  last  of  them  alone  is  properly  and  Suments- 
strictly  a  division  of  Arguments  as  such.  The  first  is 
evidently  a  division  of  the  forms  of  stating  them  ;  for 
every  one  would  allow  that  the  same  argument  may  be 
either  stated  as  an  enthymeme,  or  brought  into  the  strict 
syllogistic  form ;  and  that,  either  categorically  or  hypo- 
thetically,  &c. ;  e  g  "  Whatever  has  a  beginning  has 
a  cause ;  the  earth  had  a  beginning,  therefore  it  had  a 
cause  ;  or,  If  the  earth  had  a  beginning,  it  had  a  cause  : 
it  had  a  beginning,"  &c.  everyone  would  call  the  same 
argument,  differently  stated.  This,  therefore,  evidently 
is  not  a  division  of  Arguments  as  such.  . 

The  second  is  plainly  a  division  of  arguments  ac- 


i  I  I 

;'!..,     i,t 
,    ()1   pwinil 
ftfgUll). 

■ ,  ,m  immutable  truth,  oj  »ji  <iL 
ami   fNfif  •■•*iitii*iij«  uou  j    while    Iji    human 
prtmututiun*   which  we  (i.-.-iiiiic  die  onl>  true  I 

lie  UD  l<»n^.  <»■•>  the  law 

•    f    lllCIll   t)l 

iiuuly  cm  u 

I 

I  ;.,    but  Ul  tl       / 

I 

llic    pUl'M  " 

n  «lia\N  n,  • 

1/    wili.l    HI 

i  f  the 

i   the 

i  • 

I 

H 

i  I  I 

mitli  'i  ii. ..i 

i  i        ry  o/ 

i  Unl  thi  i 

ii  ii. ..i  mdii  m  hilti  tii 

»..  Ic  ,!..(  .1  i,  u«J 


II         'I  I  •'      •    I  '      I    '■     I  U>N  ,1 

in    ii ••  'I''''  ■■  ill  ri  nil     -  ■  •  nl in    •  ilm|  |inl  ■  iltfi 

1 1  I M  II 10 1 1 1 1  •    ■  •  ■ I  ••'•■•  I     •  i    I  1 1 1 

i"  i     'i ri   i"'  h  ihli        'i"     tin  ■■  I'n i  iiiini 

\\\\)   i  illi nl  nl    i     in  li    Iiiii  1 1| 

lliej i ■ 

pirn  •  .i 

•  i"  i Di  m  till  h  il |nu|inil|  i  ill 

i  nl  mil  ii  i   nlln  l()    \\    ■ 

I    'II     III      |  |l  ill}     '•!    '   I       '   I  H    M\ "    '■ 

till       I       'I"  II  I  lllllll    •   I    llll        III  i I  |    .'I    ill.' 

1 1 1 1 1    1 1 1 R  t  1 1 1    1 1 1 1     •  ■  1 1  •  I II    I  •  1 1  I        I,  J  -l.l,. 

Illtjl  I Ill  I        I Il     llll  •      ,,    I  .  , 

llii  i mil  •  inn  I-  iln h  i li  "i  ■  i  'i 

I      'I"        I [llll]    I    ||  ""I      HI    \)        |||       |  Illlllll    .1      \\    llll 

luilm    nl  ilu    ilpli  ilioi    uli  ml  I'm  llii  li  mi     Iiiii  i||g 

••  I  lllllll  I    III]  "■     >      ,  .   .1  ...     ■  I  I II  I  IV I  •  II  ll|l    I I 

—  i i  mil  iin    ,..,..,.       hii  h  i. inn  ii 

•  i i    ■  nl    i  In  i   ■  I  I  i  'I iji  ■  i 

•  i     i  I  li in  •  III  •  I 

n  ■  illoil  uiil Ii  i ml   i In  llm  inliil 

•  till      III  IWBUll  llll    |l llii  II  •     'l l|   |||| 

—  Ill  Ii  ii      lili  II  I    llii  i'llhi'1     mil  nl  fii  in 

•  •  impli      In  III I'lniii  ii-  ipI i ii  i 

i  i  in     Iiiilli  Iml  |i 

llii     i  •         \  ml  'i  I   [il i  il  ilu  |i i  ill  . .  inn 

limn  li  il  I I'i  h  in  •    In  ilu     iiliji  • Hi  i'  nl'  ilu 

i  • I  ii  il I  i'hii  idi  ii  i| 

Mil |V|  |     ■         ...       || |       l|||        || (I) 

Jll'llll    lllll  IIIII  ll I"    •  |      lllll     '     I 

.    .     |  ,      ,    I  .    ,  .    .  I        ,  .  ,  .    I  ,  I  ■     ,  I  ,  .    ,  .  ||  I  1 1 1 1 1     I  1 1 1 

i i.  imi 1 1 i  iii  i"  ■■  ii  ii"  nllln>|    ilu   . 

•  i in     ill  "'I  mil  Im 

ill i i I-  nil i   tmliii  fliim 

ij  Inn  I   1 1"    |iii i  'i in  i"  iliin    in  i    •■ 

iiiimi      llittl    m    ■    |H i li     'i i  illtill 

i li  ■•ii"  . 

I"     il I     I  lllll     I    llllVl        !■!•!"  || V 

ll  • .  il  ill  iridium*  i  I   "'    lien  •  il  •  il 

I 


42 


ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Fart  I 


©  es  g 


C  O 


So 


.15  o 

o  c 


« « s 


o   0,0 

111.1 


<5 


cog 
o  cS  o 

e2fs  . 

&  1 1I 


ssss 

.,-c  «-  o 

•etc" 
f  *83 


H 


i« 


'bo    ! 


§2 

i2  rt 


-1-3 


3 

bfi 

E 


Cnxp   II.  §  20         OF  CONVICTION.  43 

§  2  In  distributing,  then,  the  several  kinds  Two  clasB_ 
of  Arguments,  according  to  this  division,  it  es  of  Argu 
will  be  found  convenient  to  lay  down  first  two  ments- 
great  classes,  under  one  or  other  of  which  all  can  be 
brought ;  viz.  first,  such  Arguments  as'might  have  been 
employed  not  as  arguments,  but  to  account  for  the  fact 
or  principle  maintained,  supposing  its  truth  granted : 
secondly,  such  as  could  not  be  so  employed.  The 
former  class  (to  which  in  this  Treatise  the  name  of  "a 
priori  "  Argument  will  be  confined)  is  manifestly  Argu- 
ment from  Cause  to  Effect ;  since  to  account  for  any 
thing,  signifies,  to  assign  the  Cause  of  it.  The  other 
class,  of  course,  comprehends  all  other  Arguments ;  of 
which  there  are  several  kinds,  which  will  be  mentioned 
hereafter. 

The  two  sorts  of  proof  which  have  been  just  spoken 
of,  Aristotle  seems  to  have  intended  to  designate  by  the 
titles  of  otl  for  the  latter,  and  dion  for  the  former ;  but 
he  has  not  been  so  clear  as  could  be  wished  in  observ- 
ing the  distinction  between  them.  The  only  decisive 
test  by  which  to  distinguish  the  Arguments  which  be- 
long to  the  one  and  to  the  other,  of  these  classes,  is,  to 
ask  the  question,  "  Supposing  the  proposition  in  ques- 
tion to  be  admitted,  would  this  statement  here  used  as 
an  Argument,  serve  to  account  for  and  explain  the  truth, 
or  not  ?"  It  will  then  be  readily  referred  to  the  former 
or  to  the  latter  class,  according  as  the  answer  is  in  the 
affirmative  or  the  negative ;  as,  e.  g.  if  a  murder  were 
imputed  to  any  one  on  the  grounds  of  his  "  having  a 
hatred  to  the  deceased,  and  an  interest  in  his  death,"  the 
Argument  would  belong  to  the  former  class ;  because, 
supposing  his  guilt  to  be  admitted,  and  an  inquiry  to  be 
made  how  he  came  to  commit  the  murder,  the  circum- 
stances just  mentioned  would  serve  to  account  for  it; 
but  not  so,  with  respect  to  such  an  Argument  as  his 
**  having  blood  on  his  clothes ;"  which  would  therefore 
be  referred  to  the  other  class. 

And  here  let  it  be  observed,  once  for  all,  that  when 


44  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [Part  I 

I  speak  of  arguing  from  Cause  to  Effect,  it  is  not  intend 
ed  *o  maintain  the  real  and  proper  efficacy  of  what  are 
called  Physical  Causes  to  produce  their  respective 
Effects,  nor  to  enter  into  any  discussion  of  the  contro- 
versies which  have  been  raised  on  that  point ;  which 
would  be  foreign  from  the  present  purpose.  The  word 
"  Cause,"  therefore,  is  to  be  understood  as  employed  in 
the  popular  sense ;  as  well  as  the  phrase  of  "  account- 
ing for  "  any  fact. 

Argument  As    far>    t]ien'    aS    an^    CaUse>    popularly 

from  cause  speaking,  has  a  tendency  to  produce  a  certain 
to  effect.  Effect,  so  far  its  existence  is  an  Argument 
for  that  of  the  Effect.  If  the  Cause  be  fully  sufficient, 
and  no  impediments  intervene,  the  Effect  in  question 
follows  certainly ;  and  the  nearer  we  approach  to  this, 
the  stronger  the  Argument. 

This  is  the  kind  of  Argument  which  produces  (when 
short  of  absolute  certainty)  that  species  of  the  Probable 
Plaus  t  which  is  usually  called  the  Plausible.  On 
y'  this  subject  Dr.  Campbell  has  some  valuable 
remarks  in  his  Philosophy  of  R/ietoric,  (book  i.  §  5,  ch. 
vii.)  though  he  has  been  led  into  a  good  deal  of  per- 
plexity, partly  by  not  having  logically  analysed  the  two 
species  of  probabilities  he  is  treating  of,  and  partly  by 
departing,  unnecessarily,  from  the  ordinary  use  of  terms, 
in  treating  of  the  Plausible  as  something  distinct  from 
the  Probable,  instead  of  regarding  it  as  a  species  of  Pro- 
bability.* 

This  is  the  chief  kind  of  Probability  which  poets,  or 
other  writers  of  fiction,  aim  at ;  and  in  such  works  it  is 

*  1  do  not  mean,  however,  that  every  thing  to  which  the  term 
•plausible"  would  apply  would  be  in  strict  propriety  called 
"  probable ;"  as  e.  g.  it'  we  had  fully  ascertained  some  story  that 
iiad  been  told  us  to  he  an  imposition,  we  might  still  say,  it  was  a 
"plausible"  tale;  though, subsequent  to  the  detection,  the  word 
"  probable "  would  not  be  so  properly  applied.  But  certainly 
common  usage  warrants  the  use  of  "  probable  "  in  many  cases, 
on  the  ground  of  this  plausibility  alone ;  viz.  the  adequacy  of 
tome  cause,  known,  or 'likely  to  exist,  to  produce  the  effect  in 
question. 


Chap.  II.  $  2.]         OF  CONVICTION.  45 

often  designated  by  the  term  "  natural."*  Writers  of 
this  class,  as  they  aim  not  at  producing  belief,  are 
allowed  to  take  their  "  Causes"  for  granted,  (i.  e.  to 
assume  any  hypothesis  they  please,)  provided  they 
make  the  Effects  follow  naturally ;  representing,  that 
is.  the  personages  of  the  fiction  as  acting,  and  the  events 
as  resulting,  in  the  same  manner  as  might  have  been 
expected,  supposing  the  assumed  circumstances  to  have 
been  real.f  And  hence  the  great  father  of  criticism 
establishes  his  paradoxical  maxim,  that  impossibilities 
which  appear  probable,  are  to  be  preferred  to  possibili- 
ties which  appear  improbable.  For,  as  he  justly 
observes,  the  impossibility  of  the  hypothesis,  as  e.  g. 
in  Homer,  the  familiar  intercourse  of  gods  with  mortals, 
is  no  bar  to  the  kind  of  Probability  (i.  e.  Verisimili- 
tude) required,  if  those  mortals  are  represented  as  act- 
ing in  the  manner  men  naturally  would  have  done  un- 
der those  circumstances. 

The  Probability,  then,  which  the  writer  of  fiction 
aims  at,  has,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  no  tendency 
to  produce  a  particular,  but  only  a  general,  belief;  i.  e. 
not  that  these  particular  events  actually  took  place,  but 
that  such  are  likely,  generally,  to  take  place  under 
such  circumstances  :t  this  kind  of  belief  (unconscious- 
ly entertained)  being  necessary,  and  all  that  is  necessa- 
ry, to  produce  that  sympathetic  feeling  which  is  the 
writer's  object.  In  Argumentative  Compositions,  how- 
ever, as  the  object  of  course  is  to  produce  conviction 
as  to  the  particular  point  in  question,  the  Causes  from 

*  It  is  also  important  for  them,  though  not  so  essential,  to  keep 
clear  of  the  improbable  air  produced  by  the  introduction  of  events, 
which,  though  not  unnatural,  have  a  great  preponderance  of  chances 
against  them.  The  distinction  between  these  two  kinds  of  faults  is 
pointed  out  in  a  passage  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  for  which  see  Ap- 
pendix, [B.] 

t  For  some  remarks  on  this  point,  see  the  preface  to  a  late  (puri- 
fied) edition  of  the  "Tales  of  the  Genii." 

t  On  which  ground  Aristotle  contends  that  the  end  of  Fiction  is 
more  Philosophical  than  that  of  History,  since  it  aims  at  general,  ia 
•tcad  of  particular,  Truth. 


46  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [Part  I. 

which  our  Arguments  are  drawn  must  be  such  as  are 
either  admitted,  or  may  be  proved,  to  be  actually 
existing,  or  likely  to  exist. 

On  the  appropriate  use  of  this  kind  of  Argument, 

(which  is  probably  the  eUbg  of  Aristotle,  though  unfor- 

Employ-     tunately  he  has  not  furnished  any  example 

ment    of     of  it,)  some  Rules  will  be  laid  down  here- 

the  phrase   after ;   my  object  at   present  having   been 

a  prion.  t       ,  .•*.!?  r   •.         »      i 

merely  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  it.  And 
here  it  may  be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  though  I 
have  applied  to  this  mode  of  Reasoning  the  title  of 
"  a  priori"  it  is  not  meant  to  be  maintained  that  all 
such  arguments  as  have  been  by  other  writers  so 
designated  correspond  precisely  with  what  has  been 
just  described.*  The  phrase,  "  a  priori"  Argument,  is 
not  indeed  employed  by  all  in  the  same  sense ;  it  would, 
however,  generally  be  understood  to  extend  to  any 
argument  drawn  from  an  antecedent  or  forerunner, 
whether  a  Cause  or  not;  e.  g.  "the  mercury  sinks, 
therefore  it  will  rain."  Now  this  Argument  being 
drawn  from  a  circumstance  which,  though  an  antece- 
dent, is  in  no  sense  a  Cause,  would  fall  not  under  the 
former,  but  the  latter,  of  the  classes  laid  down ;  since 
when  rain  comes,  no  one  would  account  for  the  pheno- 

*  Some  students,  accordingly,  partly  with  a  view  to  keep  clear  of 
any  ambiguity  that  might  hence  arise,  and  partly  for  the  sake  of 
brevity,  have  found  it  useful  to  adopt,  in  drawing  up  an  outline  or 
analysis  of  any  composition,  certain  arbitrary  symbols,  to  denote, 
respectively,  each  class  of  Arguments  and  of  Propositions  :  viz. 
A,  for  the  former  of  the  two  classes  of  arguments  just  described, 
(to  denote  "  a  priori,"  or  "  antecedent,"  probability,)  and  B,  for  the 
latter,  which,  as  consisting  of  several  different  kinds,  may  be 
denominated  "  the  body  of  evidence."  Again,  they  designate  the 
proposition,  which  accounts  for  the  principal  and  original  assertion, 
by  a  small  "  a,"  or  Greek  a,  to  denote  its  identity  in  substance  witb 
the  argument  bearing  the  symbol "  A,"  though  employed  for  a  diffe- 
rent purpose  ;  viz.  not  to  establish  a  fact  that  is  doubtful,  but  to 
account  for  one  that  is  admitted.  The -proposition,  again,  which 
results  as  a  consequence  or  corollary  from  the  principal  one,  they 
designate  by  the  symbol  C.  There  seems  to  be  the  same  conveni- 
ence in  the  use  of  these  symbols  as  Logicians  have  found  in  the 
employment  of  A,  E,  I,  O,  to  represent  the  four  kinas  of  Proposi 
tions  according  to  quantity  and  quality. 


Chap.  II.  $  3.]        OF  CONVICTION.  47 

menon  by  the  falling  of  the  mercury;  which  they  would 
call  a  sign  of  rain ;  and  yet  most,  perhaps,  would  class 
this  among  ci  a  priori "  Arguments.  In  like  manner  the 
expression,  "a  posteriori"  Arguments,  would  not  in 
its  ordinary  use  coincide  precisely,  though  it  would  very 
nearly,  with  the  second  class  of  Arguments. 

The  division,  however,  which  has  here  been  adopted, 
appears  to  be  both  more  philosophical,  and  also  more 
precise,  and  consequently  more  practically  useful,  than 
any  other ;  since  there  is  so  easy  and  decisive  a  test  by 
which  an  argument  may  be  at  once  referred  to  the  one 
or  to  the  other  of  the  classes  described.  — "* 

§  3.  The  second,  then,  of  these  classes,  (viz.  "  Argu- 
ments drawn  from  such  topics  as  could  not  be  used  to 
account  for  the  fact,  &c.  in  question,  supposing  it 
granted,")  may  be  subdivided  into  two  kinds;  which 
will  be  designated  by  the  terms  "  Sign"  and  "  Example." 

By"  Sign,"  (so  called  from  the 2.7]/Lielov  of 
Aristotle,)  is  meant,  what  may  be  described  Slgn' 
as  an  "  argument  from  an  Effect  to  a  Condition:" — a 
species  of  Argument  of  which  the  analysis  is  as  fol- 
lows ;  as  far  as  any  circumstance  is,  what  may  be  call- 
ed a  Condition  of  the  existence  of  a  certain  effect  or 
phenomenon,  so  far  it  may  be  inferred  from  the  exist- 
ence of  that  Effect :  if  it  be  a  Condition  absolutely  es- 
sential, the  Argument  is,  of  course,  demonstrative ;  and 
the  Probability,  is  the  stronger  in  proportion  as  we  ap- 
proach to  that  case. 

Of  this  kind  is  the  Argument  in  the  instance  lately 
given  :  a  man  is  suspected  as  the  perpetrator  of  the  sup- 
posed murder,  from  the  circumstance  of  his  clothes  be- 
ing bloody  ;  the  murder  being  considered  as  in  a  certain 
degree  a  probable  condition  of  that  appearance;  i.  e.  it 
is  presumed  that  his  clothes  would  not  otherwise  have 
been  bloody.  Again,  from  the  appearance  of  ice,  we 
infer,  decidedly,  the  existence  of  a  temperature  not  above 
freezing  point ;  that  temperature  being  an  essential  Con- 
dition of  the  crystallization  of  water. 


48  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC  [Part  I 

Proof  of  Among  the  circumstances  which  are  con- 

a  cause.  ditional  to  any  Effect,  must  evidently  come 
the  Cause  or  Causes;  and  if  there  be  only  one  possible 
Cause,  this  being  absolutely  essential,  may  be  demon- 
stratively proved  from  the  Effect :  if  the  samp.  Effecl 
might  result  from  other  Causes,  then  the  Argument  is, 
at  best,  but  probable.  But  it  is  to  be  observed,  that 
there  are  also  many  circumstances  which  have  no  ten- 
dency to  produce  a  certain  Effect,  though  it  cannot  exisl 
without  them,  and  from  which  Effect,  consequently, 
they  may  be  inferred,  as  Conditions,  though  not  Causes : 
e.  g.  a  man's  "  being  alive  one  day,"  is  a  circum- 
stance necessary,  as  a  Condition,  to  his  "  dying  the 
next;  but  has  no  tendency  to  produce  it;  his  having 
been  alive,  therefore,  on  the  former  day,  may  be  proved 
from  his  subsequent  death,  but  not  vice-versa* 

It  is  to  be  observed  therefore,  that  though  it  is  very 
common  for.  the  Cause  to  be  proved  from  its  Effect,  it 
is  never  so  proved  so  far  forth  as  [^]  it  is  a  Cause, 
but  so  far  forth  as  it  is  a  condition,  or  necessary  cir- 
cumstance. 

A  Cause,  again,  may  be  employed  to  prove  an  Effect, 
(this  being  the  first  class  of  Arguments  already  described,) 
so  far  as  it  has  a  tendency  to  produce  the  Effect,  even 
though  it  be  not  at  all  necessary  to  it :  (i.  e-  when  other 
Causes  may  produce  the  same  effect ;)  and  in  this  case, 
though  the  Effect  may  be  inferred  from  the  Cause,  the 
Cause  cannot  be  inferred  from  the  Effect :  e.  .g.  from 
a  mortal  wound  you  may  infer  death ;  but  not  vice 
versa. 

*  It  is  however  very  common,  in  the  carelessness  of  ordinary 
language,  to  mention,  as  the  Causes  of  phenomena,  circumstances 
which  every  one  would  allow,  on  consideration,  to  be  not  Causes, 
but  only  conditions,  of  the  Effects  in  question  :  e.  g.  it  would  be 
said  of  a  tender  plant,  that  it  was  destroyed  in  consequence  of  not 
being  covered  with  a  mat ;  though  every  one  would  mean  to  imply 
that  the  frost  destroyed  it;  this  being  a  cause  too  well  known  to 
need  being  mentioned  ;  and  that  which  is  spoken  of  as  the  Cause, 
viz.  the  absence  of  a  covering,  being  only  the  Condition,  without 
which  the  real  Cause  could  not  have  operated. 


Chap.  II.  §3.]         OF  CONVICTION.  49 

Lastly,  when  a  Cause  is  also  a  necessary  or  probable 
condition,  i.  e.  when  it  is  the  only  possible  or  only 
likely  Cause,  then  we  may  argue  both  ways  :  c.  g.  we 
may  infer  a  General's  success  from  his  known  skill,  or, 
his  skill,  from  his  known  success  :  (in  this,  as  in  all 
cases,  assuming  what  is  the  better  known  as  a  proof  of 
what  is  less-known,  denied,  or  doubted,)  these  two  Ar- 
guments belonging,  respectively,  to  the  two  classes 
originally  laid  down. 

And  it  is  to  be  observed,  that,  in  such  Ar-  T  „„.:„„,  nn,i 

„.  I'll  1  1-iOgICdi  dill 

guments  from  Sign  as  this  last,  the  conclusion  physical  se. 
which  follows,  logically,  from  the  premiss,  <]uence- 
being  the  Cause  from  which  the  premiss  follows,  phy- 
sically, (i.  e.  as  a  natural  Effect,)  there  are  in  this  case 
two  different  kinds  of  Sequence  opposed  to  each  other, 
e.  g.  "  With  many  of  them  God  was  not  well  pleased; 
for  they  were  overthrown  in  the  wilderness."  In  Ar- 
guments of  the  first  class,  on  the  contrary,  these  two 
kinds  of  Sequence  are  combined  ;  i.  e.  the  Conclusion 
which  follows  logically  from  the  premiss,  is  also  the 
Effect  following  physically  from  it  as  a  Cause ;  a  Gene- 
ral's skill,  e.  g.  being  both  the  Cause  and  the  Proof  of 
his  being  likely  to  succeed. 

It  is  most  important  to  keep  in  mind  the  importance, 
distinction  between  these  two  kinds  of  Se-  of  distia- 
quence,  which  are,  in  Argument,  sometimes  fhe1StwoS 
combined,  and  sometimes  opposed.  There  is  kinds  of  se 
no  more  fruitful  source  of  confusion  of  <iuence- 
thought  than  that  ambiguity  of  the  language  employed 
on  these  subjects,  which  tends  to  confourtd  together 
these  two  things,  so  entirely  distinct  in  their  nature. 
There  is  hardly  any  argumentative  writer  on  subjects 
involving  a  discussion  of  the  Causes  or  Effects  of  any 
thing,  who  has  clearly  perceived  and  steadily  kept  in 
view  the  distinction  I  have  been  speaking  of,  or  who 
has  escaped  the  errors  and  perplexities  thence  resulting. 
The  wide  extent  accordingly,  and  the  importance  of  the 
mistakes  and  difficulties  arising  out  of  the  ambiguity 
5 


SO  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC         [Past  I 

comp\ained  of,  is  incalculable.  Of  all  the  "  Idola  Fori,"* 
none  is  perhaps  more  important  in  its  results.  To 
dilate  upon  this  point  as  fully  as  might  be  done  with 
advantage,  would  exceed  my  present  limits  ;  but  it  will 
not  be  irrelevant  to  offer  some  remarks  on  the  origin  of 
the  ambiguity  complained  of,  and  on  the  cautions  to  be 
used  in  guarding  against  being  misled  by  it. 
Logical  The  Premiss  by  which  any  thing  is  prov 

sequence,  ed,  is  not  necessarily  the  Cause  of  the  fact's 
being  such  as  it  is;  but  it  is  the  cause  of  our  knowing, 
or  being  convinced,  that  it  is  so ;  e.  g.  the  wetness  of 
the  earth  is  not  the  cause  of  rain,  but  it  is  the  cause  of 
our  knowing  that  it  has  rained.  These  two  things — 
the  Premiss  which  produces  our  conviction,  and  the 
Cause  which  produces  that  of  which  we  are  convinced 
' — are  the  more  likely  to  be  confounded  together,  in  the 
looseness  of  colloquial  language,  from  the  circumstance 
that  (as  has  been  above  remarked)  they  frequently 
coincide ;  as,  e.  g.  when  we  infer  that  the  ground  will 
be  wet,  from  the  fall  of  rain  which  produces  that  wet- 
ness. And  hence  it  is  that  the  same  words  have  come 
to  be  applied,  in  common,  to  each  kind  of  Sequence , 
e.  g.  an  Effect  is  said  to  "  follow  "  from  a  Cause,  and  a 
Conclusion  to  "  follow"  from  the  Premises;  the  words 
"  Cause"  and  "Reason,"  are  each  applied  indifferently, 
both  to  a  Cause,  properly  so  called,  and  to  the  Premiss 
of  an  Argument ;  though  "  Reason,"  in  strictness  of 
A  .v  .  speaking,  should  be  confined  to  the  latter. 
of^'be*-1  7  "  Therefore,"  "  hence,"  "  consequently," 
cause,"  &c.,  and  also,  "  since,"  "  because,"  and 
fore?"  &c:  "  wny>"  have  likewise  a  corresponding  am- 
biguity. 
The  multitude  of  the  words  which  bear  this  double 
meaning  (and  that,  in  all  languages)  greatly  increases 
our  liability  to  be  misled  by  it ;  since  thus  the  very 
means  men  resort  to  for  ascertaining  the  sense  of  any 
expression,  are  iniected  with  the  very  same  ambiguity 

♦Bacon. 


Chap  II.  §  3.]        OF  CONVICTION  6i 

e.  g.  if  we  inquire  what  is  meant  by  a  '  Cause,"  we 
shall  be  told  that  it  is  that  from  which  something  "  fol- 
lows ;"  or,  which  is  indicated  by  the  words  "  therefore," 
"  consequently,"  &c  all  which  expressions  are  as  equi- 
vocal and  uncertain  in  their  signification  as  the  original 
one.  It  is  in  vain  to  attempt  ascertaining  by  the 
balance  the  true  amount  of  any  commodity,  if  uncertain 
weights  are  placed  in  the  opposite  scale.  Hence  it  is 
that  so  many  writers,  in  investigating  the  Cause  to 
which  any  fact  or  phenomenon  is  to  be  attributed,  have 
assigned  that  which  is  not  a  Cause,  but  only  a  Proof 
that  the  fact  is  so  ;  and  have  thus  been  led  into  an  end- 
less train  of  errors  and  perplexities. 

Several,  however,  of  the  words  in  question,  though 
employed  indiscriminately  in  both  significations,  seem 
(as  was  observed  in  the  case  of  the  word  "  Eeason  ") 
in  their  primary  and  strict  sense  to  be  confined  to  one. 
"  AJ7,"  in  Greek, and  "ergo,"*  or  "  itaque,"  in  Latin, 
seem  originally  and  properly  to  denote  the  Sequence  of 
Effect  from  Cause  ;  "  apa,"f  and  "  igitur,"  that  of  con- 
clusion from  premises.  The  English  word  "  accord- 
ingly," will  generally  be  found  to  correspond  with  the 
Latin  "  itaque." 

The  interrogative  "  why,"  is  employed  to  Ambiguity 
inquire,  either,  first,  the  "  Reason,"  (or  0I'"Why" 
**  Proof ;")  secondly,  the  "  Cause  ;"  or  thirdly,  the  "  ob 
ject  proposed,"  or  Final-Cause  :  e.  g.  first,  Why  are  the 
angles  oi  a  triangle  equal  to  two  right  angles  ?  second- 
ly, Why  are  the  days  shorter  in.winter  than  in  summer  ? 
thirdly,  Why  are  the  works  of  a  watch  constructed  as 
they  are  ?| 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  discovery  of  Causes  be- 
longs prope^y  to  the  province  of  the  Philosopher ,  that 

*  Most  Logical  writers  seem  not  to  be  aware  of  thk:,  as  tbey 

! generally,  in  Latin  Treatises,  employ  "ergo"  in  the  other  sense. 
t  is  from  the  Greek  epyy,  i.  e.  "  in  tact." 

t  "Apa  having  a  signification  of  fitness  or  coincidence ,  whence 
ifiu. 
t  See  the  article  Why,  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Treatise  on  Logio 


£2  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETOE  [C.  [Part  I 

of  "  Reasons,"  strictly  so  called,  (I  e.  Arguments,)  to 
that  of  the  Rhetorician  ;  and  that,  though  each  will 
have  frequent  occasion  to  assume  the  character  of  the 
other,  it  is  most  important  that  these  two  objects  should 
not  he  confounded  together. 

§  4.  Of  Signs  then  there  are  some  which  from  a  cer- 
tain Effect  or  phenomenon,  infer  the  "  Cause"  of  it ;  and 
others  which,  in  like  manner,  infer  some  "  Condition" 
which  is  not  the  Cause. 

Testimony  Of"  these  last,  one  species  is  the  Argument 
a  kind  of  from  Testimony:  the  premiss  being  the  ex- 
siSn-  istence  of  the  Testimony ;  the  Conclusion, 

the  truth  of  what  is  attested ;  which  is  considered  as  3 
«*  Condition"  of  the  Testimony  having  been  given  ;  since 
it  ^>  evider*  that  so  far  only  as  this  is  allowed,  (i.  e.  sc? 
far  only  as  it  is  allowed,  that  the  Testimony  would  no* 
have  been  given,  had  it  not  been  true,)  can  this  Argu 
ment  have  any  force.  Testimony  is  of  various  kinds 
and  may  possess  various  degrees  of  force,*  not  only  in 
reference  to  its  own  intrinsic  character,  but  in  reference 
also  to  the  kind  of  conclusion  that  it  is  brought  to 
support. 

Matters  of  *n  respect  of  this  latter  point,  the  first  and 
fact,  and  of  great  distinction  is,  between  testimony  to 
opinion.  matters  of  fact,  and,  to  matters  of  opinion, 
or  doctrines.  When  the  question  is  as  to  a  fact,  it  is 
plain  we  have  to  look  chiefly  to  the  honesty  of  a  wit- 
ness, his  accuracy,  and  his  means  of  gaining  informa- 
tion. When  the  question  is  about  a  matter  of  opinion, 
n  is  equally  plain  that  his  ability  to  form  a  judgment 
is  no  less  to  be  taken  into  account. f     But  though  this 

*  Locke  has  touched  on  this  subject,  though  slightly  and  scanti 
ly.  He  says,  "  In  the  testimony  of  others,  is  to  be  considered,  . 
The  number.  2.  The  integrity.  3  The  skill  of  the  witnesses.  4. 
The  design  of  the  author,  where  it  is  a  testimony  out  of  a  book 
cited.  5.  The  consistency  of  the  parts  and  circumstances  of  the 
relation.    6.  Contrary  testir-.onies." 

t  Testimony  to  mstters  of  opinion  usually  receives  the  name  of 
authority ;  which  term  however  is  also  often  applied  when  facts  are 
in  question;  as  when  we  say,indifferertly,  "the  account  of  thia 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]         OF  CONVIUTION.  55 

is  admitted  by  all,  it  is  very  common  with  inconsiderate 
persons  to  overlook,  in  practice,  the  distinction,  and  to 
mistake  as  to,  what  it  is,  that,  in  each  case,  is  attested. 
Facts,  properly  so  called,  are,  we  should  remember, 
individuals ;  though  the  term  is  often  extended  to 
general  statements,  especially  when  these  are  well 
established.  And  again,  the  causes  or  other  circum- 
stances connected  with  some  event  or  phenomenon,  are 
often  stated  as  a  part  of  the  very  fact  attested.  If,  for 
instance,  a  person  relates  his  having  found  coal  in  a 
certain  stratum ;  or  if  he  states,  that  in  the  East  Indies 
he  saw  a  number  of  persons  who  had  been  sleeping 
exposed  to  the  moon's  rays,  afflicted  with  certain 
symptoms,  and  that  after  taking  a  certain  medicine  they 
recovered — he  is  bearing  testimony  as  to  simple  matters 
of  fact :  but  if  he  declares  that  the  stratum  in  question 
constantly  contains  coal ; — or,  that  the  patients  in  ques 
tion  were  so  affected  in  consequence  of  the  moon's  rays 
— that  such  is  the  general  effect  of  them  in  that  climate,* 
and  that  that  medicine  is  a  cure  for  such  symptoms,  it 
is  evident  that  his  testimony — however  worthy  of 
credit — is  borne  to  a  different  kind  of  conclusion; 
namely,  not  an  individual,  but  a  general  conclusion, 
and  one  which  must  rest,  not  solely  on  the  veracity, 
but  also  on  the  judgment,  of  the  witness. 

Even  in  the  other  case,  however — when  character  of 
the  question  relates  to  what  is  strictly  a  witnesses, 
matter  of  fact — the  intellectual  character  of  the  witness 
is  not  to  be  wholly  left  out  of  the  account.  A  man 
strongly  influenced  by  prejudice,*  to  which  the  weakest 
men  are  ever  the  most  liable,  may  even  fancy  he  sees 
what  he  does  not.  And  some  degree  of  suspicion  may 
thence  attach  to  the  testimony  of  prejudiced,  though 
honest  men,  when  their  prejudices  are  on  the  same  side 
with  their  testimony :  for  otherwise  their  testimony 

transaction  rests  on  the  authority  " — or  "  on  the  testimony — of  such 
6Jio  such  an  historian." 

*  Such  is  the  prevailing,  if  not  universal  belief  of  those  who  hare 
rr  ded  in  the  East  Indies. 


04  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  I 

may  even  be  the  stronger.  E.  G.  The  early  disciple* 
of  Jesus  were,  mostly,  ignorant,  credulous,  and  preju- 
diced men ;  but  all  their  expectations — all  their  earh 
prejudices — ran  counter  to  almost  everything  that  thej 
attested.  They  were,  in  that  particular  case,  harder  tc 
be  convinced  than  more  intelligent  and  enlightened  me/ 
would  have  been.  It  is  most  important,  therefore,  U 
remember — what  is  often  forgotten — that  credulity  anc1 
incredulity  are  the  same  habit  considered  in  reference 
to  different  things.  The  more  easy  of  belief  any  one 
is  in  respect  of  what  falls  in  with  his  wishes  or  precon- 
ceived notions,  the  harder  of  belief  he  will  be  of  any- 
thing that  opposes  these. 

Number  of  Again,  in  respect  of  the  number  of  wit- 
witnesses,  nesses,  it  is  evident  that — other  points  being 
equal — many  must  have  more  weight  than  one,  or  a 
few ;  but  it  is  no  uncommon  mistake  to  imagine  many 
witnesses  to  be  bearing  concurrent  testimony  to  the 
same  thing,  when  in  truth  they  aie  attesting  different 
things.  One  or  two  men  may  be  bearing  original 
testimony  to  some  fact  or  transaction  ;  and  one  or  two 
hundred,  who  are  repeating  what  they  have  heard  from 
these,  may  be,  in  reality,  only  bearing  witness  to  their 
having  heard  it,  and  to  their  own  belief.  Multitudes 
may  agree  in  maintaining  some  system  or  doctrine, 
which  perhaps  one  out  of  a  million  may  have  convinced 
himself  of  by  research  and  reflection ;  while  tho  rest 
have  assented  to  it  in  implicit  reliance  on  authority. 
These  are  not,  in  reality,  attesting  the  same  thing 
The  one  is,  in  reality,  declaring  that  so  and  so  is,  as  he 
conceives,  a  conclusion  fairly  established  by  reasons 
pertaining  to  the  subject-matter;  the  rest,  that  so 
and  so  is  the  established  belief;  or  is  held  by  per- 
sons on  whose  authority  they  rely.  These  last  may 
indeed  have  very  good  ground  for  their  belief :  (for 
no  one  would  say  that  a  man  who  is  not  versed  in 
Astronomy  is  not  justified  in  believing  the  earth's 
motion :)  hut  still  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  they 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]        OF  CONVICTION.  6ft 

are  not,  in  reality,  bearing  witness  to  the  same  tiling  as 
the  others. 

Undesigned  testimony  is  manifestly,  so  undesigned 
far,  the  stronger ;  the  suspicion  of  fabrica-  testimony, 
tion  being  thus  precluded.  Slight  incidental  hints 
therefore,  and  oblique  allusions  to  any  fact,  have  often 
much  more  weight  than  distinct  formal  assertions  of  it. 
And,  moreover,  such  allusions  will  often  go  to  indicate 
not  only  that  the  fact  is  true,  but  that  it  was,  at  the 
time  when  so  alluded  to,  notorious  and  undisputed. 
The  account  given  by  Herodotus,  of  Xerxes's  cutting  a 
canal  through  the  isthmus  of  Athos,  which  is  ridiculed 
by  Juvenal,*  is  much  more  strongly  attested  by  Thucy- 
dides  in  an  incidental  mention  of  a  place  "  near  which 
some  remains  of  the  canal  might  be  seen,"  than  if  he 
had  distinctly  recorded  his  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
the  narrative. 

So  also,  the  many  slight  allusions  in  the  apostolic 
epistles  to  the  sufferings  undergone,  and  the  miracles 
wrought,  by  disciples,  as  things  familiar  to  the  readers, 
are  much  more  decisive  than  distinct  descriptions,  nar- 
ratives, or  assertions,  would  have  been. 

Paley,  in  that  most  admirable  specimen  of  Small  cir. 
the  investigation  of  this  kind  of  evidence,  the  cumstances 
Horae  Paulinae,  puts  in  a  most  needful  caution  may  have 
against  supposing  that  because  it  is  on  very  fvdght. 
minute  points  this  kind  of  argument  turns, 
therefore  the  importance  of  these  points  in  establishing 
the  conclusion  is  small.]     The  reverse,  as  he  justly 
observes,  is  the  truth ;  for  the  more  minute,  and  in- 

*  "  Velificatus  Athos,  et  quicquid  Graecia  mendax 
Audet  in  historia." 
f-  Thus  Swift  endeavoured  (in  Gulliver's  Voyage  toLaputa,  and 
in  some  of  his  poems,)  to  cast  ridicule  on  some  of  the  evidence  on 
which  Bishop  Atterbury's  treasonable  correspondence  was  brought 
home  to  him  ;  the  medium  of  proof  being  certain  allusions,  in 
some  of  the  letters,  to  a  lame  lap-dog  5  as  if  the  importance  of  the 
evidence  were  to  be  measured  by  the  Intrinsic  importance  of  the 
dog.  But  Swift  was  far  too  acute  a  man  probably  to  have  fallen 
himself  into  such  an  error  as  he  was  endeavouring,  for  party 
purposes,  to  lead  his  readers  into 


56  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [Part  I 

trinsically  trifling,  and  likely  to  escape  notice,  any 
point  is,  the  more  does  it  preclude  the  idea  of  design 
and  fabrication,  imitations  of  natural  objects — flowers, 
for  instance — when  so  skilfully  made  as  to  deceive  the 
naked  eye,  are  detected  by  submitting  the  natural  and 
the  artificial  to  a,  microscope. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  other  kinds  of  sigr 
also.  The  number  and  position  of  the  nails  in  a  man'f 
shoe,  corresponding  with  a  foot-mark,  or  a  notch  in  the 
blade  of  a  knife,  have  led  to  the  detection  of  a  murderer 
Testimony  The  testimony  of  adversaries — including 
of  adversa-  under  this  term  all  who  would  be  unwilling 
nes-  to  admit  the  conclusion  to  which  their  testi 

mony  tends — has,  ;f  course,  great  weight  derived  from 
that  circumstance.  A  nd  as  it  will,  oftener  than  not,  fall 
under  the  head  of  "  undesigned,"  much  minute  research 
will  often  be  needful,  in  order  to  draw  it  out. 
Cross-ex-  In.  oral  examination  of  witnesses,  a  skilful 
amination.  cross-examiner  will  often  elicit  from  a  reluc- 
tant witness  most  important  truths,  which  the  witness  is 
desirous  of  concealing  or  disguising.  There  is  another 
kind  of  skill,  which  consists  in  so  alarming,  misleading, 
or  bewildering  an  honest  witness  as  to  throw  discredit  on 
his  testimony,  or  pervert  the  effect  of  it.  *  Of  this  kind  of 
art,  which  may  be  characterised  as  the  most,  or  one  of 
the  most,  base  and  depraved  of  all  possible  employments 
of  intellectual  power,  I  shall  only  make  one  further  ob- 
servation. I  am  convinced  that  the  most  effectual  mode 
of  eliciting  truth,  is  quite  different  from  that  by  which  an 
honest,  simple-minded  witness  is  most  easily  baffled  and 
confused.  I  have  seen  the  experiment  tried,  of  subject- 
ing a  witness  to  such  a  kind  of  cross-examination  by  a 
'  practised  lawyer  as  would  have  been,  I  am  convinced, 
the  most  likely  to  alarm  and  perplex  many  an  honest 
witness  ;  without  any  effect  in  shaking  the  testimony  : 
anu,  afterwards,  by  a  totally  opposite  mode  of  exami- 

*  See  in  Appendix  [C]  some  extracts  from  a  valuable  pamphlet 
*»  the  "  License  of  Counsel." 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]         OF  CONVICTION.  fi? 

nation,  such  as  would  not  have  at  all  perplexed  one  who 
tvas  honestly  telling  the  truth,  that  same  witness  was 
drawn  on,  step  by  step,  to  acknowledge  the  utter  falsity 
of  the  whole.  Generally  speaking,  I  believe  that  a 
quiet,  gentle,  and  straightforward,  though  full  and  care- 
ful examination,  will  be  the  most  adapted  to  elicit 
truth;  and  that  the  manoeuvres,  and  the  brow-beating, 
which  are  the  most  adapted  to  confuse  an  honest  wit- 
ness, are  just  what  the  dishonest  one  is  the  best  pre- 
pared for.  The  more  the  storm  blusters,  the  more  care- 
fully he  wraps  round  him  the  cloak,  which  a  warm 
sunshine  will  often  induce  him  to  throw  off. 

In  any  testimony  (whether  oral  or  written)  Testimony 
that  is  unwillingly  borne,  it  will  more  fre-  of  adversa- 
quently  consist  in  something  incidentally  pes  usually 
implied,  than  in  a  distinct  statement.  For  mci  en  a  ' 
instance,  the  generality  of  men,  who  are  accustomed  to 
cry  up  common-sense  as  preferable  to  systems  of  art, 
have  been  brought  to  bear  witness,  collectively,  (in 
preface  to  "  Elements  of  Logic,")  on  the  opposite  side  ; 
inasmuch  as  each  of  them  gives  the  preference  to  the 
latter,  in  the  subject,  whatever  it  may  be,  in  which  he 
is  most  conversant. 

Sometimes,  however,  an  adversary  will  be  compelled 
distinctly  to  admit  something  that  makes  against  him, 
in  order  to  contest  some  other  point.  Thus,  the  testi 
mony  of  the  Evangelists,  that  the  miracles  of  Jesus 
were  acknowledged  by  the  unbelie\ers,  and  attributed 
to  magic,  is  confirmed  by  the  Jews,  in  a  work  called 
"  Toldoth  Jeschu ;"  (the  "  Generation  of  Jesus;")  which 
must  have  been  compiled  (at  whatever  period)  from 
traditions  existing  from  the  very  first ;  since  it  is  incre- 
dible that  if  those  contemporaries  of  Jesus  who  opposed 
♦him,  had  denied  the  fact  of  the  miracles  having  been 
wrought,  their  descendants  should  have  admitted  the 
/acts,  and  resorted  to  the  hypothesis  of  magic. 

The  negative  testimony,  either  of  adversa-    Negative 
ries,  or  of  indifferent  persons,  is  often  of  great    testimony. 


JB  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  I 

weight  When  statements  or  arguments,  publicly  put 
forth,  aud  generally  known,  remain  uncontradicted,  an 
appeal  may  fairly  be  made  to  this  circumstance,  as  a 
confirmatory  testimony  on  the  part  of  those  acquainted 
with  the  matter,  and  interested  in  it ;  especially  if  they 
are  likely  to  be  unwilling  to  admit  the  conclusion. 
Concurrent  It  is  manifest  that  the  concurrent  testi- 
testimony.  mony,  positive  or  negative,  of  several  wit- 
nesses, when  there  can  have  been  no  concert,  and  es- 
pecially when  there  is  any  rvalry  or  hostility  between 
them,  carries  with  it  a  weight  independent  of  that  which 
may  belong  to  each  of  them  considered  separately.  For 
though,  in  such  a  case,  each  of  the  witnesses  should  be 
even  considered  as  wholly  undeserving  of  credit,  still 
the  chances  might  be  incalculable  against  their  all 
agreeing  in  the  same  falsehood.  It  is  in  this  kind  of 
testimony  that  the  generality  of  mankind  believe  in  the 
motions  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  &c. 
Their  belief  is  not  the  result  of  their  own  observations 
and  calculations ;  nor  yet  again  of  their  implicit  reliance 
on  the  skill  and  the  good-faith  of  any  one  or  more  As- 
tronomers ;  but  it  rests  on  the  agreement  of  many  in- 
dependent and  rival  Astronomers ;  who  want  neither  the 
ability  nor  the  will  to  detect  and  expose  each  other's 
errors.  It  is  on  similar  grounds,  as  Dr.  Hinds  has  justly 
observed,*  that  all  men,  except  about  two  or  three  in  a 
million,  believe  in  the  existence  and  in  the  genuineness 
of  manuscripts  of  ancient  books,  such  as  the  Scriptures. 
It  is  not  that  they  have  themselves  examined  these ;  or 
again,  (as  some  represent)  that  they  rely  implicitly  on 
the  good-faith  of  those  who  profess  to  have  done  so ; 
but  they  rely  on  the  concurrent  and  uncontradicted  tes- 
timony of  all  who  have  made,  or  who  might  make,  the 
examination ;  both  unbelievers,  and  believers  of  various, 
hostile  sects ;  any  one  of  whom  would  be  sure  to  s^ize 
any  opportunity  to  expose  the  forgeries  or  errors  of  his 
opponents. 

»  Hinds  on  inspiration. 


Chap.  II.  §4.]        OF  CONVICTION.  59 

This  observation  is  the  more  important,  because 
many  persons  are,  liable  to  be  startled  and  dismayed  on 
its  being  pointed  out  to  them  that  they  have  been  be- 
lieving something — as  they  are  led  to  suppose — on  very 
insufficient  reasons;  when  the  truth  is  perhaps  that 
they  have  been  mis-stating  their  reasons.* 

A  remarkable  instance  of  the  testimony  of  adversaries 
— both  positive  and  negative — has  been  afforded  in  the 
questions  respecting  penal-colonies.  The  pernicious 
character  of  the  system  was  proved  in  various  publica- 
tions, and  subsequently,  before  two  committees  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  from  the  testimony  of  persons  who 
were  friendly  to  that  system ;  the  report  and  evidence 
taken  before  those  committees  was  published ;  and  all 
this  remained  uncontradicted  for  years  ;  till,  on  motions 
being  made  for  the  abolition  of  the  system,f  persons  had 
the  effrontery  to  come  forward  at  the  eleventh  hour  and 
deny  the  truth  of  the  representations  given  :  thus  pro- 
nouncing on  themselves  a  heavy  condemnation,  for  hav- 
ing either  left  that  representation — supposing  they 
thought  it  false — so  long-  unrefuted,  or  else,  denying 
what  they  knew  to  be  true. 

Misrepresentation,  again,  of  argument — attempts  to 
suppress  evidence,  or  to  silence  a  speaker  by  clamour 
— reviling  and  personality,  and  false  charges — all  these 
are  presumptions  of  the  same  kind;  that  the  cause 
against  which  they  are  brought,  is — in  the  opinion  of 
adversaries  at  least — unassailable  on  the  side  of  truth. 

To  the  same  head  maybe  referred  the  silence  of  scho- 
lars of  various  sects  and  parties,  as  evidence  (as  has 
been  already  remarked)  in  respect  of  any  ancient  book 
of  high  importance,  whose  existence  and  genuineness 
they  do  not  deny. 

As  for  the  character  of  the  particular  things  Character 
that  in  any  case  may  be  attested,  it  is  plain     attested." 

*  See  Appendix,  [D.] 

t  See  "  Substance  of  a  Speech  on  Transportation,  delivered  is 
the  House  of  Lords,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1840."  &c 


I J  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [PA&Ti 

that  we  have  to  look  to  the  probability  or  improbabi- 
lity of  their  having  been  either  imagined,  or  invented 
by  the  persons  attesting  them. 

Any  thing  unlikely  to  occur,  is,  so  far,  the  less  like- 
ly to  have  been  feigned  or  fancied  :  so  that  its  antece- 
dent improbability  may  sometimes  add  to  the  credibility 
of  those  who  bear  witness  to  it.*  And  again,  any  thing 
which,  however  likely  to  take  place,  would  not  have 
been  likely,  otherwise,  to  enter  the  mind  of  those  parti- 
cular persons  who  attest  it,  or  would  be  at  variance 
with  their  interest  or  prejudices,  is  thereby  rendered  the 
more  credible.  Thus,  when  some  one  relates  something 
which,  though  intelligible  to  us,  he  appears  himself  not 
clearly  to  understand,  this  is  a  proof  that  it  is  no  for- 
gery of  his.  And,  as  has  been  above  remarked,  when 
the  disciples  of  Jesus  record  occurrences  and  discourses, 
6uch  as  were  both  foreign  to  all  the  notions,  and  at  va- 
riance with  all  the  prejudices,  of  any  man  living  in  those 
days,  and  of  Jews  more  especially,  this  is  a  strong  con- 
firmation of  their  testimony.  The  negative  circumstance 
also,  of  a  witness's  omitting  to  mention  things,  which 
it  is  morally  certain  he  would  have  mentioned,  had  he 
been  inventing,  adds  great  weight  to  what  he  does  say.-f 
Concurrent  ^ne  remark  above  made,  as  to  the  force  of 
signs  of  concurrent  testimonies,  even  though  each, 
other  kinds,  separately,  might  have  little  or  none,t  bu 
whose  accidental  agreement  in  a  falsehood  would  be 

*  See  Sermon  IV.  on  "  A  Christian  Place  of  Worship." 
|  See  Essay  on  Omissiors,  &c.  1st  Series,  Essay  6. 
\  It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Campbell  that  "  It  deserves  likewise  to 
be  attended  to  on  this  subject,  that  in  a  number  of  concurrent  testi- 
monies,  (in  cases  wherein  there  could  have  been  no  previous  con- 
cert,) there  is  a  probability  distinct  from  that  which  may  be  termed 
the  sum  of  the  probabilities  resulting  from  the  testimonies  of  the 
Witnesses,  a  probability  which  would  remain  even  though  the  wit- 
nesses were  of  such  a  character  as  to  merit  no  faith  at  all.  This 
probability  arises  purely  from  the  concurrence  itself.  That  such 
a  concurrence  should  spring  from  chance,  is  as  one  to  infinite  ;  that 
js,  in  other  words,  morally  impossible.  If  therefore  conortbe  ex- 
cluded, there  remains  no  other  cause  but  the  reality  of  the  fact." 
Campbell's  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  c.  v.  b.  i.  part  3,  p.  125 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]         OF  CONVICTION.  M 

extremely  improbable,  is  not  solely  applicable  to  tha 
Argument  from  Testimony,  but  may  be  extended  to 
many  arguments  of  other  kinds  also  ;  in  which  a  simi- 
lar calculation  of  chances  will  enable  us  to  draw  a  con- 
clusion, sometimes  even  amounting  to  moral  certainty, 
from  a  combination  of  data  which  singly  would  have  had 
little  or  no  weight.  E.  G.  If  any  one  out  of  a  hundred 
men  throw  a  stone  which  strikes  a  certain  object,* 
there  is  but  a  slight  probability,  from  that  fact  alone 
that  he  aimed  at  that  object ;  but  if  all  the  hundred 
threw  stones  which  struck  the  same  object,  no  one  would 
doubt  that  they  aimed  at  it.  It  is  from  such  a  combina 
tion  of  argument  that  we  infer  the  existence  of  an  in- 
telligent Creator,  from  the  marks  of  contrivance  visible 
in  the  universe,  though  many  of  these  are  such  as,  taken 
singly,  might  well  be  conceived  undesigned  and  acci- 
dental ;  but  that  they  should  all  be  such,  is  morally  im- 
possible. 

Great  care  is  requisite  in  setting  forth  clearly,  espe- 
cially in  any  popular  discourse,  argumentsof  this  nature  ; 
the  generality  of  men  being  better  qualified  for  under- 
standing (to  use  Lord  Bacon's  words)  "  particulars,  one 
by  one,"  than  for  taking  a  comprehensive  view  of  a 
whole ;  and  therefore  in  a  galaxy  of  evidence,  as  it  may 
be  called,  in  which  the  brilliancy  of  no  single  star  can 
be  pointed  out,  the  lustre  of  the  combination  is  often 
lost  on  them 

Hence  it  is,  as  was  remarked  in  the  Trea-  Fallacy  o? 
tiseon  Fallacies,  that  the  sophism  of  "Com  Composi- 
position,"  as  it  is  called,  so  frequently  mis-  lon' 
leads  men.  It  is  not  improbable,  (in  the  above  example,) 
that  each  of  the  stones  considered  separately,  may  have 
been  thrown  at  random :  and  therefore  the  same  is  con 
eluded  of  all,  considered  in  conjunction.  Not  that  ii. 
such  an  instance,  as  this,  any  one  would  reason  sc, 
weakly ;  but  that  a  still  greater  absurdity  of  the  very 

*  If  I  recollect    rightly,  these  are  the  words  of  Mr.  DugaH 
@l»wart 

6 


€2  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Pam-  * 

same  kind  is  involved  in  the  rejection  of  the  evidences 
of  our  religion,  will  be  plain  to  any  one  who  considers, 
not  merely  the  individual  force  but  the  number  and  va- 
riety of  those  evidences.* 

What  is  §  5.  And  here  it  may  be  observed,  that 

meant  by  though  the  easiest  popular  way  of  practically 
against  any  refuting  the  fallacy  just  mentioned  (or  indeed 
supposition.  any  fallacy)  is,  by  bringing  forward  a  parallel 
case,  where  it  leads  to  a  manifest  absurdity,  a  meta- 
physical objection  may  still  be  urged  against  many 
cases  in  which  we  thus  reason  from  calculation  of 
chances ;  an  objection  not  perhaps  likely  practically  to 
influence  any  one,  but  which  may  afford  the  Sophist  a 
triumph  over  those  who  are  unable  to  find  a  solution  ; 
and  which  may  furnish  an  excuse  for  the  rejection  of 
evidence  which  one  is  previously  resolved  not  to  admit. 
If  it  were  answered  then,  to  those  who  maintain  that 
the  universe,  which  exhibits  so  many  marks  of  design, 
might  be  the  work  of  non -intelligent  causes,  that  no 
one  would  believe  it  possible  for  such  a  work  as  e.  g 
me  Iliad,  to  be  produced  by  a  fortuitous  shaking  toge- 
ther of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  the  Sophist  might 
challenge  us  to  explain  why  even  this  last  supposition 
should  be  regarded  as  less  probable  than  any  other ; 
since  the  letters  of  which  the  Iliad  is  composed,  If  sha- 
ken together  at  random,  must  fall  in  some  form  or  other 
and  though  the  chances  are  millions  of  millions  to  one 
against  that,  or  any  other  determinate  order,  there  are 
precisely  as  many  chances  against  one  as  against  another , 
whether  more  or  less  regular.  And  in  like  manner,  as- 
tonished as  we  should  be,  and  convinced  of  the  inter- 
vention of  artifice,  if  we  saw  any  one  draw  out  all  the 
tards  in  a  pack  in  regular  sequences,  it  is  demonstrable 
that  the  chances  are  not  more  against  that  order,  than 
against  any  one  determinate  order  we  might  choose  to 

•  Mr.  Davison  in  the  introduction  to  his  work  on  Prophecy,  state* 
strongly  the  cumulative  force  of  a  multitude  of  small  particulars 
Bee  ch.  iii.  %  4,  of  this  Treatise 


Chap.  II.  §  5.]        OF  CONVICTION.  fij 

fix  upon  ;  against  that  one,  for  instance,  in  which  the 
cards  are  at  this  moment  actually  lying  in  any  indivi- 
dual pack.  The  multitude  of  the  chances,  therefore, 
tie  would  say,  against  any  series  of  events,  does  not 
constitute  it  improbable ;  since  the  like  happens  to 
every  one  every  day ;  e.  g.  a  man  walking  through 
London-streets,  on  his  business,  meets  accidentally 
hundreds  of  others  passing  to  and  fro  on  theirs , 
and  he  would  not  say  at  the  close  of  the  day  that  any 
thing  improbable  had  occurred  to  him ;  yet  it  would  al- 
most baffle  calculation  to  compute  the  chances  against 
his  meeting  precisely  those  very  persons,  in  the  order, 
and  at  the  times  and  places  of  his  actually  meeting  each. 
The  paradox  thus  seemingly  established,  though  few 
might  be  practically  misled  by  it,  many  would  be  at 
a  loss  to  solve. 

The  truth  is,  that  any  supposition  is  just-  mQt  .g 
;y  called  improbable,  not  from  the  number  meant  by  an 
)f  chances  against  it,  considered  indepen-  improbabi- 
lently,  but  from  the  number  of  chances  geJseo/itg 
against  it  compared  with  those  which  lie  having  ma- 
against  some  other  supposition.  We  call  ayai^Jitces 
the  drawing  of  a  prize  in  the  lottery  impro- 
bable ;  though  there  be  but  five  to  one  against  it ;  be- 
cause there  are  more  chances  of  a  blank :  on  the  other 
hand,  if  any  one  were  cast  on  a  desert  island  under  cir- 
cumstances which  warranted  his  believing  that  the 
chances  were  a  hundred  to  one  against  any  one's  having 
been  there  before  him,  yet  if  he  found  on  the  sand  peb- 
bles so  arranged  as  to  form  distinctly  the  letters  of  a 
man's  name,  he  would  not  only  conclude  it  probable, 
but  absolutely  certain,  that  some  human  being  had  been 
there ;  because  there  would  be  millions  of  chancer 
against  those  forms  having  been  produced  by  the  for- 
tuitous action  of  the  waves.  Yet  if,  instead  of  this,  I 
should  find  some  tree  on  the  island  such  that  the  chan- 
ces appeared  to  me  five  to  one  against  its  having  growfl 
there  spontaneously,  still,  if,  as  before,  I  conceived  the 


64  ELE  F  aHETORIC.       [Part  I 

-  :i  hundred  to  one  against  any  man's  having 
planted  il  (here,  I  i  houM  at  once  re<  kon  this  last  as  the 
more  unlikely  supposition. 

So  also,  in  the  instance  above  given,  any  unmet 
form  into  which  a  number  of  letters  might  fall,  would 
not  be  called  improbable,  countless  as  the  chances  are 
I  that  particular  order,  because  thereare  jv  tcu 
many  againsl  each  one  ol  all  other  unmeaning  forms; 
so  that  noonswould  be  comparatively  improbable ;  but 
if  the  letters  formed  a  coherenl  poem,  it  would  then  be 
called  incalculably  improbable  that  this  form  should 
have  been  fortuitous,  though  the  chances  against  it  re- 
main the  very  same;  because  there  must  be  much 
l<  in  ,  <  ban*  •  against  the  upposition  of  its  having  been 
the  work  of  <i<  tign.  The  probability  in  short,  of  any 
supposition,  is  estimated  from  ^.comparison  with  each 
The  inclination  of  the  balance  can- 
not be  ascertained  from  knowing  the  weights  in  one 
scale,  unless  we  know  what  is  in  tin-  opposite  scale. 
So  also  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  (equivalent  to 
about  30,000  pounds  on  the  body  "I  an  ordinarj  man) 
[ell  while  it  is  equable  on  all  parts,  and  balanced 
by  the  air  within  the  body ;  but  is  at  once  perceived, 
when  the  pre  sureii  removed  from  any  part,  by  the 
air-pump  or  cupp 

The  foregoing  ob  ici  ifat  on    hi 
remarked, are  nol  confined  to  Argument  -  from  T<  stimo- 
ny,  but  apply  to  all  cases  in  which  the  degree  of  pro- 
bability is  estimated  from  a  calculation  of  chani 
Di«boll<  •■  1"1  """"'  ^urtnel  remarks  on  this  subject 

the  reader  is  ref  i  red  to  §  17  of  the  Treatise 
on  Fallacies,'1  w  here  the  "  Fallacy  of  Objec- 
I  ed.     It  i-  most  important  to  Keep  in 

mind  the  sell  evident,  but  often  forgotten  maxim  that 
disbelief  is  belief ;  only,  they  have  reference  to  opposite 
tonclusion  E  <>  To  disbelieve  the  real  existence  of 
the  city  of  Tro) ,  is  to  b<  lieve  that  it  w  :  and 

•  i  i  gtei  B.  iii. 


Cbai-.  II.  $  G.]         OF  CONVICTION.  $5 

which  conclusion  implies  the  greater  credulity,  is  the 
question  to  be  decided.  To  some  il  may  appear  more, 
to  others,  less,  probable,  that  a  Greek  poet  should  have 
celebrated  (with  whatever  exaggerations)  some  of  the 
feats  of  arms  in  which  his  countrymen  had  actually 
been  engaged,  than  that  he  should  have  passed  by  all 

these,  and  resorted  to  such  as  were  wholly  imaginary 

The  proper  opposite  to  belief  is  either 
conscious  ignorance,  or  doubt.      And  even  orctoubtop' 

Doubt  may  sometimes  amount  to  a  kind  posed  to  Bo 
of  Belief ;  since  deliberate  and  confirmed  IloL 
Doubt,  on  a  question  that  one  has  attended  to,  implies 
a  "  verdict  .of  not  proven  ,■** — &  belief  that  there  is  not 
sufficient  evidence  to  determine  either  one  way  or  the 
other.  And  in  some  cases  this  conclusion  would  lie 
accounted  a  mark  of  excessive  credulity.  A  man  who 
should  doubt  whether  there  is  such  a  city  as  Rome, 
would  imply  Ins  belief  in  (what  most  would  account  a 
moral  impossibility)  the  possibility  of  such  multitudes 
of  independent  witnesses  having  concurred  ia  a  fabri- 
cation. 

§  6.  Before  I  dismiss  the  consideration  of  Progressiva 
Signs,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  notice  ano-  approach. 
ther  case  oi  combined  Argument  different  from  the  one 
lately  mentioned,  yet  in  some  degree  resembling  it.  The 
combination  just  spoken  oi.  Is  where  several  Testimo- 
nies or  other  Signs,  singly  perhaps  of  little  weight,  pro- 
duce jointly,  and  by  their  coincidence,  a  degree  of  prob- 
ability far  exceeding  the  Sunt  of  their  several  forces,  ta- 
ken separately  :  in  the  case  1  am  now  about  to  notice, 
the  combined  force  of  the  series  of  arguments  results 
from  the  order  in  which  they  are  considered,  and  from 
their  progressive  tendency  to  establish  a  Certain  conclu- 
sion. K.  Q,  one  part  oi  the  law  of  nature  called  the 
"vis  inertia,"  is  established  by  the  argument  alluded 
to;  viz.  that  a  body  set  in  motion  will  eternally  con- 
tinue in  motion  with  uniform  velocity  in  a  right  line, 
so  far  as  it  is  not  acted  upon  by  any  causes  fvhich  ra- 
ti 


56  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.  [Part  i. 

tard  or  stop,  accelerate,  or  divert,  its  course.  Now,  aa 
in  every  cause  which  can  come  under  our  observation, 
some  such  causes  do  intervene,  the  assumed  supposi- 
tion is  practically  impossible  ;  and  we  have  no  oppor- 
tunity of  verifying  the  law  by  direct  experiment :  but 
we  may  gradually  approach  indefinitely  near  to  the 
case  supposed ;  and  on  the  result  of  such  experiments 
our  conclusion  is  founded.  We  find  that  when  a  body 
is  projected  along  a  rough  surface,  its  motion  is  speedily 
retarded,  and  soon  stopped  ;  if  along  a  smoother  surface, 
it  continues  longer  in  motion  ;  if  upon  ice,  longer  still ; 
and  the  like  with  regard  to  wheels,  &c.  in  proportion 
as  we  gradually  lessen  the  friction  of  the  machinery : 
and  if  we  remove  the  resistance  of  the  air  by  setting  a 
wheel  or  pendulum  in  motion  under  an  exhausted  re- 
ceiver, the  motion  is  still  longer  continued.  Finding 
then  that  the  effect  of  the  original  impulse  is  more  and 
more  protracted,  in  proportion  as  we  more  and  more  re- 
move the  impediments  to  motion  from  friction  and  re- 
sistance of  the  air,  we  reasonably  conclude  that  if  this 
could  be  completely  done,  (which  is  out  of  our  power,) 
the  motion  would  never  cease,  since  what  appear  to  be 
the  only  causes  of  its  cessation  would  be  absent.* 

Again,  in  arguing  for  the  existence  and  moral  attri- 
butes of  the  Deity  from  the  authority  of  men's  opinions, 
great  use  may  be  made  of  a  like  progressive  course  01 
Argument,  though  it  has  been  often  overlooked.  Some 
have  argued  for  the  being  of  a  God  from  the  universal, 
or  at  least,  general,  consent  of  mankind;  and  some 
have  appealed  to  the  opinions  of  the  wisest  and  most 
cultivated  portion,  respecting  both  the  existence  and 
the  moral  excellence  of  the  Deity.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  there  is  a  presumptive  force  in  each  of  these  argu- 
ments ;  but  it  may  be  answered,  that  it  is  conceivable 
an  opinion  common  to  almost  all  the  species,  may  pos- 
sibly be  an  error  resulting  from  a  constitutional  infir. 

*  See  the  argument  in  Butler's  Analogy  to  prove  the  advaa 
tags  which  Virtue,  if  perfect,  might  be  expected  to  obtain. 


Chap.  II.  §  6.]        OF  CONVICTION  67 

mity  of  the  human  intellect ; — that  if  we  are  to  acqui- 
esce in  the  belief  of  the  majority,  we  shall  be  led  to 
Polytheism;  such  being  the  creed  of  the  greater  part : 
— and  that  though  more  weight  may  reasonably  be  at- 
tached to  the  opinions  of  the  wisest  and  best-instructed, 
still,  as  we  know  such  men  are  not  exempt  from  error, 
we  cannot  be  perfectly  safe  in  adopting  the  belief  they 
hold,  unless  we  are  convinced  that  they  hold  it  in  con- 
sequence of  their  being  the  wisest  and  best-instructed ; 
— so  far  forth  as  they  are  such.  Now  this  is  precisely 
the  point  which  may  be  established  by  the  above-men- 
tioned progressive  Argument.  Nations  of  Atheists,  if 
there  are  any  such,  are  confessedly  among  the  rudes' 
and  most  ignorant  savages  :  those  who  represent  their 
God  or  Gods  as  malevolent,  capricious,  or  subject  to 
human  passions  and  vices,  are  invariably  to  be  found 
(in  the  present  day  at  least)  among  those  who  are  bru- 
tal and  uncivilized  ;  and  among  the  most  civilized  na- 
tions of  the  ancients,  who  professed  a  similar  creed, 
the  more  enlightened  members  of  society  seem  either  to 
have  rejected  altogether,  or  to  have  explained  away,  the 
popular  belief.  The  Mahometan  nations,  again,  of  the 
present  day,  who  are  certainly  more  advanced  in  civili- 
zation than  their  Pagan  neighbours,  maintain  the  unity 
and  the  moral  excellence  of  the  Deity ;  but  the  nations 
of  Christendom,  whose  notions  of  the  divine  goodness 
are  more  exalted,  are  undeniably  the  most  civilized  part 
of  the  world,  and  possess,  generally  speaking,  the  most 
cultivated  and  improved  intellectual  powers.  Now  if  we 
would  ascertain,  and  appeal  to,  the  sentiments  of  man 
as  a  rational  being,  we  must  surely  look  to  those  which 
not  only  prevail  most  among  the  most  rational  and  cul- 
tivated, but  towards  which  also  a  progressive  tendency 
is  found  in  men  in  proportion  to  their  degrees  of  ration- 
ality and  cultivation.  It  would  be  most  extravagant 
to  suppose  that  man's  advance  towards  a  more  improved 
and  exalted  state  of  existence  should  tend  to  obliterate 
true  and  instil  false  notions.     On  the  contrary  we  are 


68  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  I 

authorized  to  conclude,  that  those  notions  would  be  the 
most  correct,  which  men  would  entertain,  whose  know- 
ledge, intelligence,  and  intellectual  cultivation  should 
have  reached  comparatively  the  highest  pitch  of  perfec- 
tion ;  and  that  those  consequently  will  approach  the 
nearest  to  the  truth,  which  are  entertained,  more  or 
less,  by  various  nations,  in  proportion  as  they  have  ad- 
vanced towards  this  civilized  state. 

Many  other  instances  might  be  adduced,  in  which 
truths  of  the  highest  importance  may  be  elicited  by  this 
process  of  argumentation;  which  will  enable  us  to 
decide  with  sufficient  probability  what  consequence 
would  follow  from  an  hypothesis  which  we  have  never 
experienced.  It  might,  not  improperly,  be  termed  the 
Argument  from  Progressive  Approach. 

§  7.  The  third  kind  of  Arguments  to  be 
xamp  e.  consi(jere(jj  (being  the  other  branch  of  the 
second  of  the  two  classes  originally  laid  down,  see  §  3,) 
may  be  treated  of  under  the  general  name  of  Example  ; 
taking  that  term  in  its  widest  acceptation,  so  as  to 
comprehend  the  Arguments  designated  by  the  various 
names  of  Induction,  Experience,  Analogy,  Parity  of 
Reasoning,  &c,  all  of  which  are  essentially  the  same, 
as  far  as  regards  the  fundamental  principles  I  am  here 
treating  of.  For  in  all  the  Arguments  designated  by 
these  names,  it  will  be  found,  that  we  consider  one  or 
more,  known,  individual  objects  or  instances,  of  a 
certain  class,  as  a  fair  sample,  in  respect  of  some  point 
or  other,  of  that  class ;  and  consequently  draw  an 
inference  from  them  respecting  either  the  whole  class, 
or  other,  less  known,  individuals  of  it. 

In  Arguments  of  this  kind*  then  it  will  be  found, 
that,  universally,  we  assume  as  a  major  premiss,  that 
what  is  true  (in  regard  to  the  point  in  question)  of  the 
individual  or  individuals  which  we  bring  forward  and 
appeal  to,  is  true  of  the  whole  class  to  which  they 
belong ;  the  minor  premiss  next  asserts  something  oJ 
*  See  Logic,  B.  ir.  ch.  \.\\. 


Chap.  II.  §  7  ]         OF  CONVICTION.  69 

that  individual ;  and  the  same  is  then  inferred  respecting 
the  whole  class ;  whether  we  stop  at  that  general 
conclusion,  or  descend  from  thence  to  another, 
unknown,  individual;  in  which  last  case,  which  is 
the  most  usually  called  the  Argument  from  Example, 
we  generally  omit,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  the  inter- 
mediate step,  and  pass  at  once,  in  the  expression  of 
the  Argument,  from  the  known,  to  the  unknown, 
individual.  This  ellipsis  however  does  not,  as  some- 
seem  to  suppose,  make  any  essential  difference  in  the 
mode  of  Reasoning ;  the  reference  to  a  common  class 
being  always,  in  such  a  case,  understood,  though  not 
expressed ;  for  it  is  evident  that  there  can  be  no 
reasoning  from  one  individual  to  another,  unless  they 
come  under  some  common  genus,  and  are  considered 
in  that  point  of  view  ;  e.  g. 
*'  Astronomy  was  de- 
cried at  its  first  introduc- 
tion, as  adverse  to  reli- 
gion :" 

%  # 

,g>  ,$> 


"  Every  science  is  likely  to  be  decried  at  its  first  intro- 
duction, as  adverse  to  religion." 

This  kind  of  example,  therefore,  appears  to  be  a  com- 
pound argument,  consisting  of  two  enthymemes  :  and 
when  (as  often  happens)  we  infer  from  a  known  effect 
a  certain  cause,  and  again,  from  that  cause,  another, 
unknown  effect,  we  then  unite  in  this  example,  the  ar- 
gument from  effect  to  cause,  and  that  from  cause  to  ef- 
fect. E.  G  we  may,  from  the  marks  of  Divine  bene- 
volence in  this  world,  argue,  that  "  the  like  will  be 
shown  in  the  next :"  through  the  intermediate  conclu 
won,  that,  "  God  is  benevolent."  This  is  not  indeed 
ilways  the  case ;  but  there  seems  to'  be  in  every  exam* 


"  Geology  is  likely  to  be 
decried,"  &c. 


70  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  1 

pie,  a  reference  to  some  cause,  though  that  cause  may 
frequently  be  unknown;  e.  g.  we  suppose,  in  the  in- 
stance above  given,  that  there  is  some  cause,  though 
we  may  be  at  a  loss  to  assign  it,  which  leads  men  gene 
rally  to  decry  a  new  science. 

The  term  "  Induction,"  is  commonly  ap= 
Induction.  p]jea  t0  such  arguments  as  stop  short  at  the 
general  conclusion ;  and  is  thus  contradistinguished,  in 
common  use,  from  Example.  There  is  also  this  addi» 
tional  difference,  that  when  we  draw  a  general  conclu  • 
sion  from  several  individual  cases,  we  use  the  word  la* 
duction  in  the  singular  number ;  while  each  one  of  these 
cases,  if  the  application  were  made  to  another  individu- 
al, would  be  called  a  distinct  example.  This  difference, 
however,  is  not  essential ;  since  whether  the  inference 
be  made  from  one  instance  or  from  several,  it  is  equally 
called  an  Induction,  if  a  general  conclusion  be  legiti 
mately  drawn.  And  this  is  to  be  determined  by  the 
nature  of  the  subject-matter.  In  the  investigation  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  a  single  experiment,  fairly  and  care- 
fully made,  is  usually  allowed  to  be  conclusive ;  because 
we  can,  then,  pretty  nearly  ascertain  all  the  circumstan- 
ces operating.  A  Chemist  who  had  ascertained,  in  a 
single  specimen  of  gold,  its  capability  of  combining  with 
mercury,  would  not  think  it  necessary  to  try  the  same 
experiment  with  several  other  specimens,  but  would 
draw  the  conclusion  concerning  those  metals  univers- 
ally, and  with  certainty.  In  human  affairs  on  the  con- 
trary our  uncertainty  respecting  many  of  the  circum- 
stances that  may  affect  the  result,  obliges  us  to  collect 
many  coinciding  instances  to  warrant  even  a  probable 
conclusion.  From  one  instance,  e.  g.  of  the  assassina- 
tion of  an  usurper,  it  would  not  be  allowable  to  infer 
the  certainty,  or  even  the  probability,  of  a  like  fate  at- 
tending all  usurpers.* 

Experi-  Experience,  in  its  original  and  proper  sense, 

•ace.  is  applicable  to   the  premises  from  which 

♦  See  Logic,  "On  the  Province  of  Reasoning'* 


Chap   II.  §  7.]         OF  CONVICTION.  71 

we  argue,  not  to  the  inference  we  draw.  Strictly 
speaking,  we  know  by  experience  only  the  past,  and 
what  has  passed  under  our  own  observation  ;  thus,  wi 
know  by  experience  that  the  tides  have  daily  ebbed  and 
flowed,  during  such  a  time  ;  and  from  the  testimony  of 
others  as  to  their  own  experience,  that  the  tides  have 
formerly  done  so :  and  from  this  experience,  we 
•-onclude,  by  induction,  that  the  same  phenomenon 
will  continue.* 

"  Men  are  so  formed  as  (often  unconsciously)  to 
reason,  whether  well  or  ill,  on  the  phenomena  they 
observe,  and  to  mix  up  their  inferences  with  their 
statements  of  those  phenomena,  so  as  in  fact  to  theo- 
rize (however  scantily  and  crudely)  without  knowing 
it.  If  you  will  be  at  the  pains  carefully  to  analyze  the 
simplest  descriptions  you  hear  of  any  transaction  or 
state  of  things,  you  will  find,  that  the  process  which 
almost  invariably  takes  place  is,  in  logical  language, 
this;  that  each  individual  has  in  his  mind  certain 
major -premises  or  principles,  relative  to  the  subject  in 
question ;  that  observation  of  what  actually  presents 
itself  to  the  senses,  supplies  minor -premises  ;  and  that 
the  statement  given  (and  which  is  repoited  as  a  thing 
experienced)  consists  in  fact  of  the  conclusions  drawn 
from  the  combinations  of  those  premises. 

"  Hence  it  is  that  several  different  men,  who  have  all 
had  equal,  or  even  the  very  same,  experience,  i.  e.  have 
been  witnesses  or  agents  in  the  same  transactions, 
will  often  be  found  to  resemble  so  many  different  men 
looking  at  the  same  book:  one  perhaps,  though  he 
distinctly  sees  black  marks  on  white  paper,  has  never 
learned  his  letters ;  another  can  jead,  but  is  a  stranger 
to  the  language  in  which  the  book'is  written;  another 
has  an  acquaintance  with  the  language,  but  understands 
it  imperfectly ;  another  is  familiar  with  the  language 
but  is  a  stranger  to  the  subject  of  the  book,  and  wants 

•  See  the  article  "  Experience  "  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Treatwt 
an  Logic. 


78  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  t 

power,  or  previous  instruction,  to  enable  him  fully  to 
take  in  the  author's  drift ;  while  another  again  perfectly 
comprehends  the  whole. 

"  The  object  that  strikes  the  eye  is  to  all  of  these  per- 
sons the  same ;  the  difference  of  the  impressions  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  of  each  is  referable  to  the  differences 
in  their  minds. 

"  And  this  explains  the  fact,  that  we  find  so  much 
discrepancy  in  the  results  of  what  are  called  Experi 
ence  and  Common-sense,  as  contradistinguished  from 
Theory.  Tn  former  times,  men  knew  by  experience, 
that  the  eartb  stands  still,  and  the  sun  rises  and  sets. 
Common-sense  taught  them  that  there  could  be  no  anti- 
podes, since  men  could  not  stand  with  iheir  heads  down- 
wards, like  flies  on  the  ceiling.  Experience  taught  the 
King  of  Bantam  that  water  could  not  become  solid.  And 
(to  come  to  the  consideration  of  human  affairs)  the  ex- 
perience and  common-sense  of  one  of  the  most  obser- 
vant and  intelligent  of  historians,  Tacitus,  convinced 
him,  that  for  a  mixed  government  to  be  so  framed  as  to 
combine  the  elements  of  Royalty,  Aristocracy,  and  De- 
mocracy, must  be  next  to  impossible,  and  that  if  such 
a  one  could  be  framed,  it  must  inevitably  be  very  spee- 
dily dissolved."* 

Analogy  The   w?rd  Analogy  aSain   is  generally 

employed  in  the  case  of  Arguments  in  whict 
the  instance  adduced  is  somewhat  more  remote  from  that 
to  which  it  is  applied  ;  e.  g.  a  physician  would  be  said 
to  know  by  experience  the  noxious  effects  of  a  certain 
drug  on  the  human  constitution,  if  he  had  Irequently 
seen  men  poisoned  by  it ;  but  if  he  thence  conjectured 
that  it  would  be  noxious  to  some  other  species  of  ani- 
mal, he  would  be  sa"id  to  reason  from  analogy ;  the  only 
difference  being  that  the  resemblance  is  less,  between  a 
man  and  a  brute,  than  between  one  man  and  another, 
and  accordingly  it  is  found  that  many  brutes  are  not 
acted  upon  by  some  drugs  which  are  pernicious  to  man. 

TVilit^al  Fcor.omy,  Lect.  iii.  pp.  69— 71 


Chap.  II.  §  7.]         OF  CONVICTION.  73 

But  more  stiictly  speaking,  Analogy  ought  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  direct  resemblance,  with  which  it  is 
often  confounded  in  the  language  even  of  eminent  wri- 
ters (especially  on  Chemistry  and  Natural  History)  in 
the  present  day.  Analogy  being  a  "  resemblance  oi 
ratios,''*  that  should  strictly  be  called  an  Argument  from 
Analogy,  in  which  the  two  things  (viz.  the  one  from 
which,  and  the  one  to  which,  we  argue)  are  not,  neces 
sarily,  themselves  alike,  but  stand  in  similar  relations 
to  some  other  things  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  the  com- 
mon genus  which  they  both  fall  under,  consists  in  a 
relation.  Thus  an  q^  and  a  seed  are  not  in  themselves 
alike,  but  bear  a  like  relation,  to  the.  parent  bird  and  to 
her  future  nestling,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  old  and 
young  plant  on  the  other,  respectively ;  this  relation 
being  the  genus  which  both  fall  under:  and  many  Ar- 
guments might  be  drawn  from  this  Analogy.  Again, 
the  fact  that  from  birth  different  persons  have  different 
bodily  constitutions,  in  respect  of  complexion,  stature, 
strength,  shape,  liability  to  particular  disorders,  &c. 
which  constitutions,  however,  are  capable  of  being,  to 
a  certain  degree,  modified  by  regimen,  medicine,  &c 
affords  an  Analogy  by  which  we  may  form  a  presump- 
tion, that  the  like  takes  place  in  respect  of  mental  qua- 
lities also ;  though  it  is  plain  that  there  can  be  no  di- 
rect resemblance  either  between  body  and  mind,  or  their 
respective  attributes. 

In  this  kind  of  Argument,  one  error,  which  is  very 
common,  and  which  is  to  be  sedulously  avoided,  is  that 
of  concluding  the  things  in  question  to  be  alike,  because 
they  are  analogous; — to  resemble  each  other  in  them 
selves,  because  there  is  a  resemblance  in  the  relation 
they  bear  to  certain  other  things;  which  is  manifestly 
a  groundless  inference.     Another  caution  is  applicab, 
to  the  whole  class  of  Arguments  from  Example ;  vis; 
not  to  consider  the  resemblance  or  analogy  to  extend 
further  (t.  e.  to  more  particulars)  than  it  Joes.     The 
*  Aoj'wv  biiotdrtK   Aristotle 


74  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Pakt  L 

resemblance  of  a  picture  to  the  object  it  represents,  is 
direct ;  but  it  extends  no  further  than  the  one  sense,  of 
seeing,  is  concerned.  In  the  parable  of  the  unjust 
steward,  an  argument  is  drawn  from  analogy,  to  recom- 
mend prudence  and  foresight  to  Christians  in  spiritual 
concerns ;  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  conclude  that  fraud 
was  recommended  to  our  imitation  ;  and  yet  mistakes 
very  similar  to  such  a  perversion  of  that  argument  are 
by  no  means  rare/ 

Important  Sound  judgment  and  vigilant  caution  are 

and  unim-  no  where  more  called  for  than  in  observing 
semblances  what  differences  (perhaps  seemingly  small) 
and  difleren-  do,  and  what  do  not,  nullify  the  analogy  be- 
ces  of  cases,  tween  two  cases.  And  the  same  may  be 
said  in  regard  to  the  applicability  of  Precedents,  or  ac- 
knowledged Decisions  of  any  kind,  such  as  Scripture- 
precepts,  &c. ;  all  of  which  indeed  are,  in  their  essence, 
of  the  nature  of  Example ;  since  every  recorded  decla- 
ration, or  injunction,  (of  admitted  authority)  may  be 
regarded — in  connexion  with  the  persons  to  whom,  and 
the  occasion  on  which,  it  was  delivered — as  a  known 
case  ;  from  which  consequently  we  may  reason  to  any 
other  parallel  case  ;  and  the  question  which  we  must 
be  careful  in  deciding  will  be,  to  whom,  and  to  what,  it 
is  applicable.  For,  as  I  have  said,  a  seemingly  small 
circumstance  will  often  destroy  the  analogy,  so  as  to 
make  a  precedent — precept,  &c — inapplicable  :  and 
often,  on  the  other  hand,  some  difference,  in  itself  im- 

*  "Thus, because  a  just  Analogy  has  been  discerned  between 
the  metropolis  of  a  country,  and  the  heart  of  the  animal  body,  it 
has  been  sometimes  contended  that  its  increased  size  is  a  disease- 
that  it  may  impede  some  of  its  most  important  functions,  or  even  be 
the  cause  of  its  dissolution."  See  Copleston's  Inquvy  into  tkt 
Doctrines  of  Necessity  and  Predestination,  note  to  Disc.  iii.  q.  v.  for 
a  very  able  dissertation  on  the  subject  of  Analogy,  in  the  course  of 
an  analysis  of  Dr.  King-s  Discourse  on  Predestination.  (See  Appen 
dix  [E].)  In  the  preface  to  the  last  edition  of  that  Discourse  I 
have  offered  some  additional  remarks  on  the  subject  ;  and  I  have 
again  adverted  to  it  (chiefly  in  reply  to  some  popular  objections  to 
Dr.  King)  in  the  Dissertation  on  the  Province  of  Reasoning,  sub 
joined  ta  the  Elements  of  Logic.    Ch.  v.  §  1,  note,  p.  265. 


Chap.  JL  §  7.]  OF  CONVICTION.  76 

pcrtant,  may  be  pointed  out  between  two  cases,  which 
shall  not  at  all  weaken  the  analogy  in  respect  of  the 
argument  in  hand.  And  thus  there  is  a  danger  both  of 
being  misled  by  specious  arguments  of  this  description, 
which  have  no  real  force,  and  also  of  being  staggered 
by  plausible  objections  against  such  examples  or  ap- 
peals to  authority,  &c.  as  are  perfectly  valid.  Hence 
Aristotle  observes,  that  an  opponent,  if  he  cannot  show 
that  the  majority  of  instances  is  on  his  side,  or  that 
those  adduced  by  his  adversary  are  inapplicable,  con- 
tends that  they,  at  any  rate,  differ  in  something  from 
the  case  in  question  ;  duupopav  ye  rtva  ££«.* 

Many  are  misled,  in  each  way,  by  not  estimating 
aright  the  degree,  and  the  kind,  of  difference  between 
two  cases.  E.  G.  it  would  be  admitted  that  a  great 
and  permanent  diminution  in  the  qnantity  of  some 
useful  commodity,  such  as  corn,  or  coal,  or  iron, 
throughout  the  world,  would  be  a  serious  and  lasting 
loss ;  and  that  if  the  fields  and  coal-mines  yielded  re- 
gularly double  quantities,  with  the  same  labour,  we 
should  be  so  much  the  richer ;  hence  it  might  be  infer 
red,  that  if  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  world 
were  diminished  one-half,  or  were  doubled,  like  results 
would  follow ;  the  utility  of  these  metals,  for  the  pur- 
poses of  coin,  being  very  great.  Now  there  are  many 
points  of  resemblance,  and  many  of  difference,  between 
the  precions  metals  on  the  one  hand,  and  corn,  coal,&c. 
on  the  other;  but  the  important  circumstance  to  the 
supposed  argument,  is,  that  the  utility  of  gold  and  silver 
(as  coin,  which  is  far  the  chief)  depends  on  their  value, 
which  is  regulated  by  their  scarcity ;  or  rather,  to  speak 
strictly,  by  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  them  ;  whereas, 
if  corn  and  coal  were  ten  times  more  abundant,  (i.  e. 
more  easily  obtained,)  a  bushel  of  either  would  still  be 
as  useful  as  now.  But  if  it  were  twice  as  easy  to  pro- 
cure gold  as  it  is,  a  sovereign  would  be  twice  as  large ; 
if  only  half  as  easy,  it  would  be  of  the  size  of  a  half* 
*Rhei.  b.ii.  ch.  27. 


76  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  I 

sovereign :  and  this  (besides  the  trifling  circumstance 
of  the  cheapness  or  dearness  of  gold-ornaments)  woulo 
be  all  the  difference.  The  analogy,  therefore,  fails  in 
the  point  essential  to  the  argument. 

Again,  the  Apostle  Paul  recommends  to  the  Corin- 
thians celibacy  as  preferable  to  marriage  :  hence  soma 
religionists  have  inferred  that  this  holds  good  inrespec\ 
of  all  Christians.  Now  in  many  most  important  points, 
Christians  of  the  present  day  are  in  the  same  condition 
as  the  Corinthians ;  but  they  were  liable  to  plunder, 
exile,  and  many  kinds  of  bitter  persecutions  from  their 
fellow-citizens ;  and  it  appears  that  this  was  the  very 
ground  on  which  celibacy  was  recommended  to  them, 
as  exempting  them  from  many  afflictions  and  tempta- 
tions which  in  such  troublous  times  a  family  would 
entail;  since,  as  Bacon  observes,  "He  that  hath  a  wife 
and  children  hath  given  pledges  to  fortune."  Now, 
it  is  not,  be  it  observed,  on  the  intrinsic  importance  of 
this  difference  between  them  and  us  that  the  question 
turns;  but  on  its  importance  in  reference  to  the  advice 
given. 

On  the  other  hand,  suppose  any  one  had,  at  the 
opening  of  the  French  revolution,  or  at  any  similar 
conjuncture,  expressed  apprehensions,  grounded  on  a 
review  of  history,  of  the  danger  of  anarchy,  bloodshed, 
destruction  of  social  order,  general  corruption  of  morals, 
and  the  long  train  of  horrors  so  vividly  depicted  by 
rhucydides  as  resulting  from  civil  discord,  especially 
in  his  account  of  the  sedition  at  Corcyra;  it  might  have 
been  answered,  that  the  example  does  not  apply, 
because  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  Greeks 
in  the  time  of  Thucydides,  and  the  nations  of  modern 
Europe.  Many  and  great,  no  doubt,  are  the  differences 
that  might  be  enumerated :  the  ancient  Greeks  had  not 
the  use  of  fire-arms,  nor  of  the  mariner's  compass ;  they 
were  strangers  to  the  art  of  printing  ;  their  arts  of  war 
and  of  navigation,  and  their  literature,  were  materially 
influenced  by  these  differences:  they  had  domestic 


Chap.  II   §  7.]         OF  CONVICTION.  37 

slaves;  they  were  inferior  to  us  in  many  manufactures; 
they  excelled  us  in  sculpture,  &c,  &c.  The  historian 
himself,  while  professing  to  leave  a  legacy  of  instruc- 
tion for  future  ages*  in  the  examples  of  the  past,  admits 
that  the  aspect  of  political  transactions  will  vary  from 
time  to  time  in  their  particular  forms  and  external 
character,  as  well  as  in  the  degrees  in  which  the  opera- 
tion of  each  principle  will,  on  different  occasions,  he 
displayed  ;f  but  he  contends,  that  "  as  long  as  human 
nature  remains  tlie  same"  like  causes  will  come  into 
play,  and  produce,  substantially,  like  effects. 

In  Corcyra,  and  afterwards  in  other  of  the  Grecian 
states,  such  enormities,  he  says,  were  perpetrated  as 
were  the  natural  result — of  pitiless  oppression ,  and 
inordinate  thirst  for  revenge  on  the  oppressors ; — of  a 
craving  desire,  in  some,  to  get  free  from  their  former 
poverty,  and  still  more,  in  others,  to  gratify  their 
avarice  by  unjust  spoliation; — and  of  the  removal 
of  legal  restraints  from  "  the  natural  character  of 
man,"  (?)  uvdpwTreia  Qvoie)  which,  in  consequence, 
"  eagerly  displayed  itself  as  too  weak  for  passion,  too 
strong  for  justice,  and  hostile  to  every  superior."^  Now 
the  question  important  to  the  argument,  is,  are  the 
differences  between  the  ancient  Greeks,  and  modern 
nations,  of  such  a  character  as  to  make  the  remarks  of 
Thucydides,  and  the  examples  he  sets  before  us,  inap- 
plicable ?  or  are  they  (as  he  seems  to  have  expected) 
merely  such  as  to  alter  the  external  shape  (e Woe)  of  the 

*  Krw;rt  is  ad 

f  Tiyvofteva  fiev,  Kai  au.  iad/icva,  ewj  uv  'H  AYTH  <I>YXI2  avQpu>- 
7ru>i'  ij  ua\Xuv  fit,  Kai  f/avxairtpa,  Kai  rols  e'idsm  SirjWayniva,  wj  av, 
&c.     B.  iii.  §82, 

\  'Er  <5'  ovv  n)  KeftKvpq  to.  -o\\a  avrwv  ^po£To\fir'i9T],  Kai  bi:6ca  v(ipti 
pev  apxdfizvoi  to  ttAeov  J)  o<j)(ppoovi'T],  v-b  tu>v  t?)v  Tijxupiav  r.apaax^v- 
luv,  o\  avrauvvnuEvoi^pdcEiav  irevias  <5«  TTjsetwQvias  cnraWafyiovris 
tives,  ixaXiora  6'  uv  did  -nddovq  tTridvuovvTESTd  twv  veXas  ?%«v,  irapd 
Hkt]V  yiyv&GKOUV  *  *  *  *  IvvrapaxQtvTOS  te  tov  (3iov,  is  -bv  Kaipbv 
rourov.T>i  ~6Xei,  Kai  tZv  vopLwv  Kpar/jaaaa  %  dvOpwizEia  <f>vci<;,  ciuidvia 
cai-apu  tov$  vouovi  dSiKuv,  aankri]  iSi']Xu>G£v  aKparfis  ulv  dpyTjq  oZca, 
xpeiaawv  lit  tov  SiKaiov,  iroAEpia  C£  too  r.pn\>xovTOi-  Thucyd.  book 
iii.  sec.  84. 


7%  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Paet  ] 

transactions  springing  from  similar  human  passions 
Surely  no  mere  external  differences  in  customs,  or  in  the 
arts  of  life,  between  the  ancient  Greeks  and  the  French 
(our  supposed  disputant  might  have  urged)  can  produce 
an  essential  and  fundamental  difference  of  results  from 
any  civil  commotion :  for  this,  some  new  vital  principle 
of  action  must  be  introduced  and  established  in  the 
heart; — something  capable  of  over-ruling  (Jj  uvOgoireia 
(pvaiq)  man's  natural  character.  "As  long  as  this 
remains  the  same,"  (eog  tj  avrri  y,  as  the  historian 
himself  remarks,)  substantially  the  same  results  may 
be  looked  for. 

Again,  to  take  an  instance  from  another  class  of  po- 
litical affairs;  the  manufacture  of  beet-sugar  in  France, 
instead  of  importing  West-Indian  sugar  at  a  fourth  of 
the  price,  (and  to  the  English  corn-laws  nearly  similar 
reasons  will  apply)  and  the  prohibition,  by  the  Ameri- 
cans, of  British  manufactures,  in  order  to  encourage 
home-production,  (i.  e.  the  manufacture  of  inferior  arti- 
cles at  a  much  higher  cost,)  &c.  are  reprobated  as  un- 
wise by  some  politicians,  from  the  analogy  of  what 
takes  place  in  private  life  ;  in  which  every  man  of  com 
rnon  prudence  prefers  buying,  wherever  he  can  get  them 
cheapest  and  best,  many  commodities  Avhich  he  could 
make  at  home,  but  of  inferior  quality,  and  at  a  greater 
expense ;  and  confines  his  own  labour  to  that  depart- 
ment in  which  he  finds  he  can  labour  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. To  this  it  is  replied,  that  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence between  a  nation  and  an  individual.  And  so  there 
is,  in  many  circumstances  :  a  little  parcel  of  sugar  01 
cloth  from  a  shop,  is  considerably  different  from  a  ship- 
load of  either ;  and  again,  a  nation  is  an  object  more  im- 
portant, and  which  fills  the  mind  with  a  grander  idea, 
than  a  private  individual ;  it  is  also  a  more  complex  and 
artificial  being ;  and  of  indefinite  duration  of  existence ; 
and  moreover  the  transactions  of  each  man,  as  far  as  he 
is  left  free,  are  regulated  by  the  very  person  who  is  to 
be  a  gainer  or  loser  by  each — the  individual  himself- 


Chap.  II.  §  7.]       OF  CONVICTION.  7f 

who,  though  his  vigilance  is  sharpened  by  interest,  and 
his  judgment  by  exercise  in  his  own  department,  may 
yet  chance  to  be  a  man  of  confined  education,  possessed 
of  no  general  principles,  and  not  pretending  to  be  versed 
in  philosophical  theories  ;  whereas  the  affairs  of  a  State 
are  regulated  by  a  Congress,  Chamber  of  Deputies,  &c. 
consisting  perhaps  of  men  of  extensive  reading  and  spe- 
culative minds.  Many  other  striking  differences  might 
be  enumerated  ;  but  the  question  important  to  the  argu- 
ment, is,  does  the  expediency,  in  private  life,  of  obtain- 
ing each  commodity  at  the  least  cost,  and  of  the  bes* 
quality  we  can,  depend  on  any  of  the  circumstances  ir 
which  an  individual  differs  from  a  community  ? 

These  instances  may  suffice  to  illustrate  the  impor- 
tance of  considering  attentively  in  each  case,  not,  what 
differences  or  resemblances  are  intrinsically  the  greatest, 
but,  what  are  those  that  do,  or  that  do  not,  affect  the 
argument.  Those  who  do  not  fix  their  minds  steadily 
on  this  question,  when  arguments  of  this  class  are  em- 
ployed, will  often  be  misled  in  their  own  reasonings, 
and  may  easily  be  deceived  by  a  skilful  sophist. 

In  fact  it  may  be  said  almost  without  qualification 
that  "  Wisdom  consists  in  the  ready  and  accurate  per- 
ception of  Analogies."  Without  the  former  quality, 
knowledge  of  the  past  is  nearly  uninstructive :  without 
the  latter,  it  is  deceptive. 

The  argument  from  Contraries,  (ef  havrcuv,)  noticed 
by  Aristotle,  falls  under  the  class  I  am  now  Arguments 
treating  of;  as  it  is  plain  that  Contraries  frorn  con- 
must  have  something  in  common  ;  and  it  is  tranes- 
so  far  forth  only  as  they  agree,  that  they  are  tbua 
employed  in  argument.  Two  things  are  called  "  con- 
trary./' which,  coming  under  the  same  class,  are  the 
most  dissimilar  in  that  class.  Thus,  virtue  and  vice  are 
called  contraries,  as  being,  both,  "  moral  habits,"  and 
the  most  dissimilar  of  moral  habits.  Mere  dissimilarity, 
it  is  evident,  would  not  constitute  contrariety  :  for  no 
one  would  say  that  virtue  is  contrary  to  a  mathematical 


ftO  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC        [Part  L 

problem  ;  the  two  things  having  nothing  in  common. 
In  this  then,  as  in  other  arguments  of  the  .same  class, 
we  may  infer  that  the  two  contrary  terms  nave  a  similar 
relation  to  the  same  third,  or,  respectively,  to  two 
corresponding  {i.  e.  in  this  case,  contrary)  terms  ;  we 
may  conjecture,  e.  g.  that  since  virtue  may  be  acquued 
by  education,  so  may  vice  ;  or  again,  that  since  virtue 
leads  to  happiness,  so  does  vice  to  misery. 

The  phrase  "  Parity  of  Reasoning,"  is  commonly 
employed  to  denote  Analogical  Reasoning. 

This  would  be  the  proper  place  for  an  explanation  of 
several  points  relative  to  "  Induction,"  "  Analogy,"  &c 
which  have  been  treated  of  in  the  Elements  of  Logic 
I  have  only  to  refer  the  reader  therefore  to  that  work,  B 
iv.  ch.  1  &  5  ;  and  Appendix,  article  "  Experience. 
Real  and  §  8.  Aristotle,  in  his  Rhetoric,  has  divided 

invented  Examples  into  Real  and  Invented :  the  one 
examples.  ]1Qin^  drawn  from  actual  matter  of  fact ;  the 
other,  from  a  supposed  case.  And  he  remarks,  that 
though  the  latter  is  more  easily  adduced,  the  former  is 
more  convincing.  If  however  due  care  be  taken,  that 
the  fictitious  instance — the  supposed  case,  adduced,  be 
not  wanting  in  probability,  it  will  often  be  no  less 
convincing  than  the  other.  For  it  may  so  happen,  that 
one,  or  even  several,  historical  facts  may  be  appealed 
to,  which,  being  nevertheless  exceptions  to  a  general 
rule,  will  not  prove  the  probability  of  the  conclusion. 
Thus,  from  several  known  instances  of  ferocity  in 
black  tribes,  we  are  not  authorized  to  conclude,  that 
blacks  are  universally,  or  generally,  ferocious  ;  and  in 
fact,  many  instances  may  be  brought  forward  on  ihe 
other  side.  Whereas  in  the  supposed  case,  (instanced 
by  Aristotle,  as  employed  by  Socrates,)  of  mariners 
choosing  their  steersman  by  lot,  though  we  have  .to 
reason  to  suppose  such  a  case  ever  occurred,  we  see  so 
plainly  the  probability  that  it  it  did  occur,  the  lot  might 
fall  on  an  unskilful  person,  to  the  loss  of  the  ship,  that 
he   argument   has   considerable  weight  against   the 


Ouap.  II.  §  8.]         OF  CONVICTION.  81 

practice,  so  common  in  the  ancient  republics,  of  appoint- 
ing magistrates  by  lot. 

There  is,  however,  this  important  differ-  Fictjtiolls 
ence ;  that  a  fictitious  case  w^hich  has  not  cases  must 
this  intrinsic  probability,  has  absolutely  no  be  probable, 
weight  whatever;  so  that  of  course  such  arguments 
might  be  multiplied  to  any  amount  without  the  smallest 
effect :  whereas  any  matter  of  fact  which  is  well  esta- 
blished, however  unaccountable  it  may  seem,  has  some 
degree  of  weight  in  reference  to  a  parallel  case ;  and  a 
sufficient  number  of  such  arguments  may  fairly  establish 
a  general  rule,  even  though  we  may  be  unable,  after 
all,  to  account  for  the  alleged  fact  in  any  of  the  in- 
stances. E.  G.  no  satisfactory  reason  has  yet  been 
assigned  for  a  connexion  between  the  absence  of  upper 
cutting  teeth,  or  of  the  presence  of  horns,  and  rumina- 
tion; but  the  instances  are  so  numerous  and  constant 
of  this  connexion,  that  no  Naturalist  would  hesitate,  if, 
on  examination  of  a  new  species,  he  found  those  teeth 
absent,  and  the  head  horned,  to  pronounce  the  animal  a 
ruminant.  Whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fable  of 
the  countryman  who  obtained  from  Jupiter  the  regula- 
tion of  the  weather,  and  in  consequence  found  his  crops 
fail,  does  not  go  one  step  towards  proving  the  intended 
conclusion;  because  that  consequence  is  a  mere  gratui- 
tous assumption  without  any  probability  to  support  it. 
In  fact  the  assumption  there,  is  not  only  gratuitous,  but 
is  in  direct  contradiction  to  experience ;  for  a  gardener 
has,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  command  of  rain  and  sun- 
shine, by  the  help  of  his  watering-pots,  glasses,  hot- 
beds, and  flues  ;  and  the  result  is  not  the  destruction  of 
his  crops. 

There  is  an  instance  of  a  like  error  in  a  tale  of  Cum- 
berland's, intended  to  prove  the  advantage  of  a  public 
over  a  private  education.  He  represents  two  brothers, 
educated  on  the  two  plans,  respectively ;  the  former 
turning  out  very  well,  and  the  latter  very  ill :  and  had 
the  whole  been  matter  of  fact,  a  sufficient  number  of 
7 


82  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part.  1. 

such  instances  would  have  had  weight  as  an  argument  j 
but  as  it  is  a  fiction,  and  no  reason  is  shown  why  the 
result  should  be  such  as  represented,  except  the  sup 
posed  superiority  of  a  public  education,  the  Argument 
involves  a  manifest  petit  10  principii,  and  resembles  the 
appeal  made,  in  the  well-known  fable,  to  the  picture  of 
a  man  conquering  a  lion  ;  a  result  which  might  just  as 
easily  have  been  reversed,  and  which  would  have  been 
so,  had  lions  been  painters.  It  is  necessary,  in  short, 
to  be  able  to  maintain,  either  that  such  and  such  an 
event  did  actually  take  place,  or  that,  under  a  certaiD 
hypothesis,  it  would  be  likely  to  take  place. 
Supposed  0R  tne  otner  hand  it  is  important  to  ob» 

cases  assert  serve,  with  respect  to  any  imaginary  case, 
nothing.  whether  introduced  as  an  argument,  or  mere- 
ly for  the  sake  of  explanation,  that,  as  it  is  (according 
to  what  I  have  just  said)  requisite  that  the  hypothesis 
should  be  conceivable,  and  that  the  result  supposed 
should  follow  naturally  from  it,  so,  nothing  more  is  to 
be  required.  No  fact  being  asserted,  it  is  not  fair  that 
any  should  be  denied.  Yet  it  is  very  common  to  find 
persons,  "  either  out  of  ignorance  and  infirmity,  or  out 
of  malice  and  obstinacy,"  joining  issue  on  the  question 
whether  this  or  that  ever  actually  took  place ;  and  re- 

E resenting  the  whole  controversy  as  turning  on  the 
teral  truth  of  something  that  had  never  been  affirmed 
[See  treatise  on  Fallacies,  ch.  iii.  §  "  Irrelevant  conclu- 
sion :"  of  which  this  is  a  case.]  To  obviate  this  mis- 
take more  care  must  be  taken  than  would  at  first  sight 
seem  necessary,  to  remind  the  hearers  that  you  are 
merely  supposing  a  case,  and  not  asserting  any  fact : 
especially  when  (as  it  frequently  happens)  the  supposed 
case  is  one  which  might  actually  occur,  and  perhaps 
does  occur. 

I  can  well  sympathize  with  the  contempt  mingled 
with  indignation  expressed  by  Cicero  against  certain 
philosophers  who  found  fault  with  Plato  for  having,  in 
i  case  he  proposes,  alluded  to  the  fabulous  ring  of 


C«ap  II.  §8.]         OF  CONVICTION.  83 

Gyges,  which  had  the  virtue  of  making  the  wearer  in- 
visible. They  had  found  out,  it  seems,  that  there  never 
was  any  such  ring  * 

It  is  worth  observing,  that  Arguments  from  Exam 
pie,  whether  real  or  invented,  are  the  most  easily  com- 
prehended by  the  young  and  the  uneducated ;  because 
they  facilitate  the  exercise  of  abstraction ;  a  power 
which  in  such  hearers  is  usually  the  most  imperfect. 
This  mode  of  reasoning  corresponds  to  a  geometrical 
demonstration  by  means  of  a  diagram ;  in  which  the 
figure  placed  before  the  learner,  is  an  individual,  em- 
ployed, as  he  soon  comes  to  perceive,  as  a  sign,  though 
not  an  arbitrary  sign,f  representing  the  whole  class 
The  algebraic  signs  again,  are  arbitrary ;  each  character 
not  being  itself  an  individual  of  the  class  it  represents. 
These  last  therefore  correspond  to  the  abstract  terms  of 
a  language. 

Under  the  head  of  Invented  Example,  a  Fable  and 
distinction  is  drawn  by  Aristotle,  between  illustration. 
Parabole  and  Logos.  From  the  instances  he  gives,  it 
is  plain  that  the  former  corresponds  (not  to  Parable,  in 
the  sense  in  which  we  use  the  word,  derived  from  that 
of  Parabole  in  the  Sacred  Writers,  but)  to  Illustration ; 
the  latter  to  Fable  or  Tale.  In  the  former,  an  allusion 
only  is  made  to  a  case  easily  supposable ;  in  the  latter, 
a  fictitious  story  is  narrated.  Thus,  in  his  instance 
above  cited,  of  Illustration,  if  any  one,  instead  of  a  mere 

*  Atque  hoc  loco,  philosophi  quidam,  mmime  mali  illi  quidem, 
sed  non  satis  acuti,  fictam  et  commenticiam  fabulam  prolatam  di- 
cunt  a  Platone  :  quasi  vero  ille,  aut  factum  id  esse,  aut  fieri  potuisse 
defendat.  Haec  est  vis  hujus  annuli  et  hujus  exempli,  si  nemo  sci- 
turus,  nemo  ne  suspicaturus  quidem  sit,  cum  aliquid,  divitiarum, 
potential,  dominations,  libidinis,  caussa  feceris — si  id  diis  homini- 
busque  luturum  sit  semper  ignotum,  sisne  facturus.  Negant  id 
fieri  posse.  Quanquam  potest  id  quidem  ;  sed  qurero ,  quod  negant 
posse,  id  si  posset,  quidnam  facerent  ?  Urgent  rustice  sane  : 
negant  enim  posse,  et  in  eo  perstant.  Hoc  verbuni  quid  valeat, 
non  vident.  Cum  enim  quasrimus,  si  possint  celare,  quid  facturi 
Bint,  non  qua°rimus,  possintne  celare,  &c.     (Cic.  de  Off.  b.  iii.  c.  9.) 

t  The  words,  written  or  spoken,  of  any  language,  are  arbitrary 
signs  ;  the  characters  of  picture-writing  or  hieroglyphic,  are 
natural  signs. 


84  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC        [Part  I. 

allusion,  should  relate  a  tale,  of  mariners  choosing  a 
steersman  by  lot,  and  being  wrecked  in  consequence, 
Aristotle  would  evidently  have  placed  that  under  the 
head  of  Logos.  The  other  method  is  of  course  prefera- 
ble, from  its  brevity,  whenever  the  allusion  can  be  readi- 
ly understood :  and  accordingly  it  is  common,  in  th& 
case  of  well-known  fables,  to  allude  to,  instead  of  narrat- 
ing, them.  That,  e.  g.  of  the  horse  and  the  slag,  which 
he  gives,  would,  in  the  present  day,  be  rather  alluded 
to  than  told,  if  we  wished  to  dissuade  a  people  from  call- 
ing in  a  too  powerful  auxiliary.  It  is  evident  that  a 
like  distinction  might  have  been  made  in  respect  of  his- 
torical examples ;  those  cases  which  are  well  known, 
being  often  merely  alluded  to,  and  not  recited. 
Fable  The  word  "  fable"  is  at  present  generally 

and  tale.  limited  to  those  fictions  in  which  the  resem- 
blance to  the  matter  in  question  is  not  direct,  but  analo- 
gical ;  the  other  class  being  called  novels,  tales,  &c. 
Those  resemblances  are  (as  Dr.  A.  Smith  has  observed) 
the  most  striking,  in  which  the  things  compared  are  of 
the  most  dissimilar  nature ;  as  is  the  case  in  what  we 
call  fables ;  and  such  accordingly  are  generally  prefer- 
red for  argumentative  purposes,  both  from  that  circum- 
stance itself,  and  also  on  account  of  the  greater  brevity 
which  is,  for  that  reason,  not  only  allowed  but  required 
in  them.*  For  a  fable  spun  out  to  a  great  length  be- 
comes an  allegory,  which  generally  satiates  and  dis- 
gusts; on  the  other  hand,  a  fictitious  tale,  having  a 
more  direct,  and  therefore  less  striking  resemblance  to 
reality,  requires  that  an  interest  in  the  events  and  pei* 
aoiis  should  be  created  by  a  longer  detail,  without  which 
it  would  be  insipid.  The  fable  c  f  the  Old  Man  and  the 
Bundle  of  Sticks,  compared  with  the  Iliad,  may  serve  to 
exemplify  what  has  been  said:  the  moral  conveyed  by 
each  being  the  same,  viz.,  the  strength  acquired  by  un- 
ion, and  the  weakness  resulting  from  division  ;  the  lat- 

•  A  novel  or  tale  may  b©  compared  to  a  picture  ;  a  fuble,  to  a  d» 
Vic«. 


Uhap.  III.  §  I.]       OF  CONVICTION.  85 

ter  fiction  would  be  perfectly  insipid  if  conveyed  in  a 
few  lines ;  the  former,  in  twenty-four  books,  insup- 
portable. 

Of  the  various  uses,  and  of  the  real  or  apparent  re- 
futation, of  Examples,  fas  well  as  of  other  arguments,!/ 
I  shall  treat  hereafter;  but  it  may  be  worth  while  here 
to  observe,  that  I  have  been  speaking  of  Example  as  a 
kind  of  Argument,  and  with  a  view  therefore  to  that 
purpose  alone  ;  though  it  often  happens  that  a  resem- 
blance, either  direct,  or  analogical,  is  introduced  for 
other  purposes ;  viz.  not  to  prove  any  thing,  but  either 
to  illustrate  and  explain  one's  meaning,  (which  is  the 
strict  etymological  use  of  the  word  Illustration,)  or  to 
amuse  the  fancy  by  ornament  of  language :  in  which 
case  it  is  usually  called  a  similie  :  as,  for  instance,  when 
a  person  whose  fortitude,  forbearance,  and  other  such 
virtues,  are  called  forth  by  persecutions  and  afflictions, 
is  compared  to  those  herbs  which  give  out  their  fra- 
grance on  being  bruised.  It  is  of  course  most  impor- 
tant to  distinguish,  both  in  our  own  compositions  and 
those  of  others,  between  these  different  purposes.  I 
shall  accordingly  advert  to  this  subject  in  the  course  of 
the  following  chapter. 


Chap.  III. — Of  the  various  use  and  order  of  the  several 
kinds  of  Propositions  and  of  Arguments  in  different 
cases. 

§  1.  The  first  rule  to  be  observed  is,  that  Arguments 
it  should  be  considered,  whether  the  princi-  of  Confuta- 
pal  object  of  the  discourse  be,  to  give  satis-  tio"  and. of 
faction  to  a  candid  mind  »nd  convey  in- 
struction to  those  who  are  ready  to  receive  it,  or  to 
compel  the  assent,  or  silence  the  objections,  of  an  oppo- 
nent. For,  cases  may  occur,  in  which  the  arguments 
to  be  employed  with  most  effect  will  be  different,  ac- 
cording as  it  is  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  objects  that 


86  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  1. 

we  are  aiming  at.  It  will  often  happen  that  of  the  two 
great  classes  into  which  Arguments  were  divided,  the 
"  a  priori "  or  Argument  from  cause  to  effect,  will  be 
principally  employed  when  the  chief  object  is  to  instruct 
the  learner,  and  the  other  class,  when  our  aim  is  to  re- 
fute the  opponent.  And  to  whatever  class  the  argu- 
ments we  resort  to  may  belong,  the  general  tenour  of 
the  reasoning  will,  in  many  respects,  be  affected  by  the 
present  consideration.  The  distinction  in  question  is 
nevertheless  in  general  little  attended  to.  It  is  usual  to 
call  an  argument,  simply,  strong  or  weak,  without  re- 
ference to  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  designed ;  where- 
as the  arguments  which  afford  the  most  satisfaction  to  a 
candid  mind,  are  often  such  as  would  have  less  weight 
in  controversy  than  many  others,  which  again  would  be 
less  suitable  for  the  former  purpose.  E.  G.  There  are 
some  of  the  internal  evidences  of  Christianity  which,  in 
general,  are  the  most  satisfactory  to  a  believer's  mind, 
but  are  not  the  most  striking  in  the  refutation  of  unbe- 
lievers :  the  arguments  from  analogy  on  the  other  hand, 
which  are  (in  refuting  objections)  the  most  unanswera- 
ble, are  not  so  pleasing  and  consolatory. 

My  meaning  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  by  an 
instance  referred  to  in  that  incomparable  specimen  of 
reasoning,  Dr.  Paley's  Horce  Paulina.  "  When  we 
take  into  our  hands  the  letters,"  {viz.  Paul's  Epistles,) 
"  which  the  suffrage  and  consent  of  antiquity  hath  thus 
transmitted  to  us,  the  first  thing  that  strikes  our  atten- 
tion is  the  air  of  reality  and  business,  as  well  as  of 
seriousness  and  conviction,  which  pervades  the  whole. 
Let  the  sceptic  read  them.  If  he  be  not  sensible  of 
these  qualities  in  them,  the  argument  can  have  no 
weight  with  him.  If  he  be  ;  if  he  perceive  in  almost 
every  page  the  language  of  a  mind  actuated  by  real 
occasions,  and  operating  upon  real  circumstances ;  1 
would  wish  it  to  be  observed,  that  the  proof  which 
arises  from  this  perception  is  not  to  be  deemed  occult  or 
imaginary,  because  it  is  incapable  of  being  drawn  out 


Chap.  III.  §  1.]       OF  CONVICTION.  87 

in  words,  or  of  being  conveyed  to  the  apprehension  of 
the  reader  in  any  other  way,  than  by  sending  him  to 
the  books  themselves."* 

There  is  also  a  passage  in  Dr.  A.  Smith's  Theory  of 
Moral  Sentiments,  which  illustrates  very  happily  one 
of  the  applications  of  the  principle  in  question.  "  Some- 
times we  have  occasion  to  defend  the  propriety  of 
observing  the  general  rules  of  justice,  by  the  considera- 
tion of  their  necessity  to  the  support  of  society.  We 
frequently  hear  the  young  and  the  licentious  ridiculing 
the  most  sacred  rules  of  morality,  and  professing,  some- 
times from  the  corruption,  but  more  frequently  from  the 
vanity  of  their  hearts,  the  most  abominable  maxims  of 
conduct.  Our  indignation  rouses,  and  we  are  eager  to 
refute  and  expose  such  detestable  principles.  But 
though  it  is  their  intrinsic  hatefulness  and  detestable- 
ness  which  originally  inflames  us  against  them,  we  are 
unwilling  to  assign  this  as  the  sole  reason  why  we 
condemn  them,  or  to  pretend  that  it  is  merely  because 
we  ourselves  hate  and  detest  them.  The  reason,  we 
think,  would  not  appear  to  be  conclusive.  Yet,  why 
should  it  not ;  if  we  hate  and  detest  them  because  they 
are  the  natural  and  proper  objects  of  hatred  and  detes- 
tation ?  But  when  we  are  asked  why  we  should  not 
act  in  such  or  such  a  manner,  the  very  question  seems 
to  suppose  that,  to  those  who  ask  it,  this  manner  of 
acting  does  not  appear  to  be  so  for  its  own  sake  the 
natural  and  proper  object  of  those  sentiments.  We  must 
show  them,  therefore,  that  it  ought  to  be  so  for  the  sake 
of  something  else.  Upon  this  account  we  generally  cast 
about  for  other  arguments,  and  the  consideration  which 
first  occurs  to  us,  is  the  disorder  and  confusion  of  society 
which  would  result  from  the  universal  prevalence  of 
Buch  practices.  We  seldom  fail,  therefore,  to  insist 
upon  this  topic"! 

It  may  serve  to  illustrate  what  has  been  just  said,  to 
remark  that  our  judgment  of  the  character  of  any  indi* 

»  P.  403.  t  Part  ii.  sjc.  ii.  pp.  151,  152.  vol.  i.  ed.  1812. 


8S  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  L 

vidual  is  often  not  originally  derived  from  such  circum- 
stances as  we  should  assign,  or  could  adequately  set 
forth  in  language,  in  justification  of  onr  opinion. 
When  we  undertake  to  give  our  reasons  for  thinking 
that  some  individual,  with  whom  we  are  personally 
acquainted,  is,  or  is  not,  a  gentleman — a  man  of  taste 
— humane — public-spirited,  &c.  we  of  course  appeal  to 
his  conduct,  or  his  distinct  avowal  of  his  own  senti- 
ments ;  and  if  these  furnish  sufficient  proof  of  our 
assertions,  we  are  admitted  to  have  given  good  reasons 
for  our  opinion  :  but  it  may  be  still  doubted  whether 
these  were,  in  the  first  instance  at  least,  our  reasons, 
which  led  us  to  form  that  opinion.  If  we  carefully  and 
candidly  examine  our  own  mind,  we  shall  generally  find 
that  our  judgment  was,  originally,  (if  not  absolutely 
decided,)  at  least  strongly  influenced,  by  the  person's 
looks — tones  of  voice — gestures — choice  oi  expressions, 
and  the  like ;  which,  if  stated  as  reasons  for  forming  a 
conclusion,  would  in  general  appear  frivolous,  merely 
because  no  language  is  competent  adequately  to  describe 
them ;  but  which  are  not  necessarily  insufficient  grounds 
for  beginning  at  least  to  form  an  opinion ;  since  it  ia 
notorious  that  there  are  many  acute  persons  who  are 
seldom  deceived  in  such  indications  of  character. 

In  all  subjects  indeed,  persons  unaccustomed  to 
writing  or  discussion,  but  possessing  natural  sagacity, 
and  experience  in  particular  departments,  have  been 
observed  to  be  generally  unable  to  give  a  satisfactory 
reason  for  their  judgments,  even  on  points  on  winch 
they  are  actually  very  good  judges.*  This  is  a  defect 
which  it  is  the  business  of  education  (especially  the 
present  branch  of  it)  to  surmount  or  diminish.  Aftei 
all,  however,  in  some  subjects,  no  language  can 
adequately  convey  (to  the  inexperienced  at  least)  all 
the  indications  which  influence  the  judgment  of  an  acute 
and  practised  observer  And  hence  it  has  been  justly 
and  happily  remarked,  that,  "  he  must  be  an  indifferer.1 

*  See  Aristotle's  Ethics,  B.  vi. 


Dhap.  III.  §  2.]       OF  CONVICTION.  89 

physician,  who  never  takes  any  step  for  which  he 
cannot  assign  a  satisfactory  reason." 

§  2.  It  is  a  point  of  great  importance  to  Presum 
decide  in  each  case,  at  the  outset,  in  your  tion  and 
own  mind,  and  clearly  to  point  out  to  the  b"^n  of 
hearer,  as  occasion  may  serve,  on  which  side 
the  presumption  lies,  and  to  which  belongs  the  [onus 
probandi]  burden  of  proof.  For  though  it  may  often 
be  expedient  to  bring  forward  more  proofs  than  can  be 
fairly  demanded  of  you,  it  is  always  desirable,  when 
tiiis  is  the  case,  that  it  should  be  known,  and  that  the 
strength  of  the  cause  should  be  estimated  accordingly. 

According  to  the  most  correct  use  of  the  term,  a 
"  Presumption  "  in  favour  of  any  supposition,  means, 
not  (as  has  been  sometimes  erroneously  imagined)  a 
preponderance  of  probability  in  its  favour,  but,  such  a 
preoccupation  of  the  ground,  as  implies  that  it  must 
stand  good  till  some  sufficient  reason  is  adduced  against 
it ;  in  short,  that  the  burden  of  proof  lies  on  the  side  of 
him  who  would  dispute  it. 

Thu«,  it  is  a  well-known  principle  of  the  law,  that 
every  man  (including  a  prisoner  brought  up  for  trial) 
is  to  be  presumed  innocent  till  his  guilt  is  established. 
This  does  not,  of  course,  mean  that  we  are  to  take  for 
granted  he  is  innocent ;  for  if  that  were  the  case,  he 
would  be  entitled  to  immediate  liberation  :  nor  does  it 
mean  that  it  is  antecedently  more  likely  than  not  that  he 
is  innocent ;  or,  that  the  majority  of  these  brought  to 
trial  are  so.  It  evidently  means  only  that  the  "  burden 
of  proof"  lies  with  the  accusers; — that  he  is  not  to  be 
called  on  to  prove  his  innocence,  or  to  be  dealt  with  as 
a  criminal  till  he  has  done  so  ;  but  that  they  are  to  bring 
their  charges  against  him,  which  if  he  can  repel,  he 
stands  acquitted. 

Thus  again,  there  is  a  "  presumption  "  in  favour  of 

the  right  of  any  individuals  or  bodies-corporate  to  the 

property  of  which  they  are  in  actual  possession :  this 

does  not  mean  that  they  are,  or  are  not,  likely  to  be  th« 

8 


tO  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  i, 

"ightful  owners:  but  merely, that  no  man  is  to  be  dis- 
turbed in  his  possessions  till  some  claim,  against  him 
shall  be  established.  He  is  not  to  be  called  on  to  prove 
his  right;  but  the  claimant,  to  disprove  it;  on  whom 
consequently  the  "  burden  of  proof "  lies. 
Importance  A  moderate  portion  of  common-sense  will 
of  deciding  enable  any  one  to  perceive,  and  to  show,  on 
sideVes  the  which  side  the  presumption  lies,  when  once 
onus  pro-  his  attention  is  called  to  this  question; 
bandi.  though,  for  want  of  attention,  it  is  often 

overlooked  :  and  on  the  determination  of  this  question 
the  whole  character  of  a  discussion  will  often  very 
much  depend.  A  body  of  troops  may  be  perfectly 
adequate  to  the  defence  of  a  fortress  against  any  attack 
that  may  be  made  on  it ;  and  yet,  if,  ignorant  of  the 
advantage  the)  possess,  they  sally  forth  into  the  open 
field  to  encounter  the  enemy,  they  may  suffer  a  repulse. 
At  any  rate,  even  if  strong  enough  to  act  on  the  offen- 
sive, they  ought  still  to  keep  possession  of  their  fortress. 
in  like  manner,  if  you  have  the  "  Presumption  "  on  your 
side,  and  can  but  refute  all  the  arguments  brought 
against  you,  you  have,  for  the  present  at  least,  gained  a 
victory:  but  if  you  abandon  this  position,  by  suffering 
this  Presumption  to  be  forgotten,  which  is  in  fact  leaving 
out  one  of,  perhaps,  your  strongest  arguments,  you  may 
appear  to  be  making  a  feeble  attack,  instead  of  a  trium- 
phant defence. 

Such  an  obvious  case  as  one  of  those  just  stated,  will 
serve  to  illustrate  this  principle.  Let  any  one  imagine 
a  perfectly  unsupported  accusation  of  some  offence  to 
be  brought  against  himself;  and  then  let  him  imagine 
himself — instead  of  replying  (as  of  course  he  would  do) 
by  a  simple  denial,  and  a  defiance  of  his  accuser  to 
prove  the  charge — setting  himself  to  establish  a  nega- 
tive— taking  on  himself  the  burden  of  proving  his  own 
innocence,  by  collecting  all  the  circumstances  indicative 
of  it  that  he  can  muster  :  and  the  result  would  be,  in 
many  cases,  that  this  evidence  would  fall  far  short  of 


Chap.  III.  §21      OF  CC^  VTnTION  91 

establishing  a  oeftaiijty,  and  might  even  have  the  effect 
of  raising  a  suspicion  against  him ;  he  having  in  fact 
kept  out  of  sight  the  important  circumstance,  that  these 
probabilities  in  one  scale,  though  of  no  great  weight 
perhaps  in  themselves,  are  to  be  weighed  against  abso- 
lutely nothing  in  the  other  scale. 

The  following  are  a  lew  of  the  cases  in  which  it  is 
important,  though  very  easy,  to  point  out  where  the 
Presumption  lies. 

There  is  a  Presumption  in  favour  of  every  Presump. 
existing  institution.     Many  of  these  (we  will  tion   irl  fa- 

,i  a    v  T.  i-i.1       r   vour  of  ex 

suppose,  the  majority)  may  be  susceptible  oi  jStjng  insti- 
alteration  for  the  better  ;  but  still  the  "  Bur-  tutions. 
den  of  proof "  lies  with  him  who  proposes  an  alteration ; 
simply,  on  the  ground  that  since  a  change  is  not  a  good 
in  itself,  he  who  demands  a  change  should  show  cause 
for  it.  No  one  is  called  on  (though  he  may  find  it  ad- 
visable) to  defend  an  existing  institution,  till  some  ar- 
gument is  adduced  against  it :  and  that  argument  ought 
in  fairness  to  prove,  not  merely  an  actual  inconvenience 
but  the  possibility  of  a  change  for  the  better. 

Every  book  again,  as  well  as  person,  ought    Presump 
to  be  presumed  harmless  (and  consequently    tion  of  in 
the  copy-right  protected  by  our  courts)  till    »«cence. 
something  is  proved  against  it.     It  is  a  hardship  to  re- 
quire a  man  to  prove,  either  of  his  book,  or  of  his  pri 
vate  life,  that  there  is  no  ground  for  any  accusation ; 
or  else  to  be  denied  the  protection  of  his  country.     The 
Burden  of  proof,  in  each  case,  lies  fairly  on  the  accuser. 
[  cannot  but  consider  therefore  as  utterly  unreasonable 
the  decisions  (which  some  years  ago  excited  so  much 
attention)  to  refuse  the  interference  of  the  Court  of 
Chancery  in  cases  of  piracy,  whenever  there  was  even 
any  doubi  whether  the  book  pirated  might  not  contain 
something  of  an  immoral  tendency. 

There  is  a  "Presumption"  against  any  presumP- 
Ihing  paradoxical,  i.  e.  contrary  to  the  pre-  tion  against 
railing  opinion:  it  may  be  true;  but  the  aPara,ioiu 


92  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Paet  L 

Burden  of  proof  lies  with  him  who  maintains  it;  since 
men  are  not  to  be  expected  to  abandon  the  prevailing 
belief  till  some  reason  is  shown. 

Hence  it  is,  probably,  that  many  are  accustomed  to 
apply  "  paradox  "  as  if  it  were  a  term  of  reproach,  and 
implied  absurdity  or  falsity.  But  correct  use  is  in 
favour  of  the  etymological  sense.  If  a  Paradox  is  un- 
supported, it  can  claim  no  attention ;  but  if  false,  it 
should  be  censured  on  that  ground ;  not  for  being  new. 
If  true,  it  is  the  more  important,  for  being  a  truth  not 
generally  admitted.  "  Interdum  vulgus  rectum  videt ; 
est  ubi  peccat."  Yet  one  often  hears  a  charge  of  "  para- 
dox and  nonsense"  brought  forward,  as  if  there  were 
some  close  connexion  between  the  two.  And  indeed, 
in  one  sense  this  is  the  case;  for  to  those  who  are  too 
dull,  or  too  prejudiced  to  admit  any  notion  at  variance 
with  those  they  have  been  used  to  entertain  (Trcfju 
dofav,)  that  may  appear  nonsense,  which  to  others  is 
sound  sense.  Thus  "Christ  crucified"  was  "to  the 
Jews,  a  stumbling-block,"  (paradox,)  "and  to  the 
Greeks,  foolishness ;"  because  the  one  "  required  a 
sign"  of  a  different  kind  from  any  that  appeared;  and 
the  others  "  sought  after  wisdom  "  in  their  schools  of 
philosophy. 

Christi-  Accordingly   there   was    a   Presumption 

anity.  against  the  Gospel  in  its  first  announcement. 

A  Je\vi.-h  peasant  claimed  to  be  the  promised  deliverer, 
in  whom  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to  be  blessed. 
The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  him.  No  one  could  be 
fairly  called  on  to  admit  his  pretensions  till  He  shewed 
cause  for  believing  in  Him.  If  He  "  had  not  done 
among  them  the  works  which  none  other  man  did,  they 
bad  not  had  sin." 

Now,  the  case  is  reversed  Christianity  exists ;  and 
those  who  deny  the  divine  origin  attributed  to  it,  are 
bound  to  show  some  reasons  for  assigning  to  it  a  human 
origin  :  not  indeed  to  prove  that  it  did  originate  in  this 
or  that  way,  without  supernatural  aid  :  but  to  point  ouf 


Chap.  III.  §  2.]       OF  CONVICTION  9] 

some  conceivable  way  in  which  it  might  have  so  arisen. 
It  is  indeed  highly  expedient  to  bring  forward  evi- 
dences to  establish  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity. 
hut  it  ought  to  be  more  carefully  kept  in  mind  than  is 
done  by  most  writers,  that  all  this  is  an  argument  "  ex 
abundanti,"  as  the  phrase  is — over  and  above  what  can 
fairly  be  called  for,  till  some  hypothesis  should  be  fram- 
ed, to  account  for  the  origin  of  Christianity  by  human 
means.  The  burden  of  proof  now  lies  plainly  on  him 
who  rejects  the  Gospel:  which,  if  it  were  not  establish- 
ed by  miracles,  demands  an  explanation  of  the  greater 
miracle — its  having  been  established,  in  defiance  of  all 
opposition,  by  human  contrivance. 

The  burden  of  proof,  again,  lay  on  the  The  Refoi 
authorsof  the  Reformation :  they  were  bound  mation. 
to  show  cause  for  every  change  they  advocated ;  and 
Ihey  admitted  the  fairness  of  this  requisition,  and  ac- 
cepted the  challenge.  But  they  were  not  bound  to  show 
cause  for  retaining  what  they  left  unaltered.  The  pre- 
sumption was,  in  those  points,  on  their  side ;  and  they 
had  only  to  reply  to  objections.  This  important  dis- 
tinction is  often  lost  sight  of,  by  those  who  look  at  the 
"  doctrines,  &c.,of  the  Church  of  England  as  constitut- 
ed at  the  Reformation,"  in  the  mass,  without  distin- 
guishing the  altered  from  the  unaltered  parts.  The 
framersof  the  Articles  kept  this  in  mind  in  their  expres- 
sion respecting  infant-baptism,  that  it  "  ought  by  all 
means  to  be  retained."  They  did  not  introduce  the 
practice,  but  left  it  as  they  found  it ;  considering  the 
burden  to  lie  on  those  who  denied  its  existence  in  the 
primitive  church,  to  show  when  it  did  arise. 

The  case  of  Episcopacy  is  exactly  parallel:  but 
Hooker  seems  to  have  overlooked  this  advantage :  he 
sets  himself  to  prove  the  apostolic  origin  of  the  institu- 
tion, as  if  his  task  had  been  to  introduce  it.  Whatever 
.force  there  may  be  in  arguments  so  adduced,  it  is  plain 
they  must  have  far  more  force  if  the  important  presump- 
tion be  kept  in  view,  that  the  institution  had  notoriously 


94  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [Part  I 

existed  many  ages,  and  that  consequently,  even  if  ther« 
had  been  no  direct  evidence  for  its  being  coeval  with 
Christianity,  it  might  fairly  be  at  least  supposed  to  be 
so,  till  some  other  period  should  be  pointed  out  at  which 
it  had  been  introduced  as  an  innovation. 
Tradition  ^n  ^le  casc  °f  any  doctri 71  cs  again,  pro- 
fessing to  be  essential  parts  of  the  Gospel- 
revelation,  the  fair  presumption  is,  that  we  shall  find  all 
such  distinctly  declared  in  Scripture.  And  again,  in  re- 
spect of  commands  or  prohibitions  as  to  any  point,  which 
our  Lord  or  his  Apostles  did  deliver,  there  is  a  presump- 
tion that  Christians-  are  bound  to  comply.  If  any  one 
maintains  on  the  ground  of  tradition  the  necessity  of 
some  additional  article  of  faith,  (as  for  instance  that  of 
purgatory)  or  the  propriety  of  a  departure  from  the  New 
Testament  precepts  (as  for  instance  in  the  denial  of  the 
cup  to  the  laity  in  the  eucharist)  the  burden  of  proof  lies 
with  him.  We  are  not  called  on  to  prove  that  there  is 
no  tradition  to  the  purpose ; — much  less,  that  no  tradition 
can  have  any  weight  at  all  in  any  case.  It  is  for  him 
to  prove,  not  merely  generally,  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  tradition,  and  that  it  is  entitled  to  respect,  but  that 
there  is  a  tradition  relative  to  each  of  the  points  which 
he  thus  maintains;  and  that  such  tradition  is,  in  each 
point,  sufficient  to  establish  that  point.  For  want  of 
observing  this  rule,  the  most  vague  and  interminable 
disputes  have  often  been  carried  on  respecting  Tradition, 
generally. 

It  should  be  also  remarked  under  this  head,  that  in 
any  one  question  the  Presumption  will  often  be  found 
to  he  on  different  sides,  in  respect  of  different  parties. 
E.  G.  In  the  question  between  a  member  of  the  Church 
of  England  and  a  Presbyterian,  or  member  of  any  other 
church,  on  which  side  does  the  Presumption  lie  ?  Evi- 
dently, to  each,  in  favour  of  the  religious  community  to 
which  he  at  present  belongs.  He  is  not  to  separata 
from  the  church  of  which  he  is  a  member,  without  hav- 
ing some  sufficient  reason  to  allege. 


Cha?.  III.  §  2.]       OF  CONVICTION.  90 

It  is  worth  remarking,  that  a  Presumption  Transfer 
may  be  rebutted  by  an  opposite  Presumption,  ring  the 
so  as  to  shift  the  burden  of  proof  to  the  other  burden  of 
side.  E.  G.  Suppose  you  had  advised  the  pro< 
removal  of  some  existing  restriction  :  you  might  be,  in 
(he  first  instance,  called  on  to  take  the  burden  of  proof, 
and  allege  your  reasons  for  the  change,  on  the  ground 
that  there  is  a  Presumptiou  against  every  change.  But 
you  might  fairly  reply,  "  True,  but  there  is  anothei 
Presumption  which  rebuts  the  former;  every  restriction 
is  in  itself  an  evil  ;*  and  therefore  there  is  a  presump- 
tion in  favour  of  its  removal,  unless  it  can  be  shewn 
necessary  for  prevention  of  some  greater  evil :  I  am  not 
bound  to  allege  any  specific  inconvenience;  if  the  re- 
striction is  unnecessary,  that  is  reason  enough  for  its 
abolition :  its  defenders  therefore  are  fairly  called  on  to 
prove  its  necessity." 

In  one  of  Lord  Dudley's  (lately  published)  Presump 
letters  to  Bishop  Copleston,  of  the  date  of  tion  against 
1814,  he  adduces  a  presumption  against  the  Lo«lc- 
science  of  Logic,  that  it  was  sedulously  cultivated  dur- 
ing the  dark  periods  when  the  intellectual  powers  of 
mankind  seemed  nearly  paralysed — when  no  discoveries 
were  made,  and  when  various  errors  were  wide- spread 
and  deep-rooted;  and  that  when  the  mental  activity  of 
the  world  revived,  and  philosophical  inquiry  flourished, 
and  bore  its  fruits,  logical  studies  fell  into  decay  and 
contempt.  To  many  minds  this  would  appear  a  decisive 
argument.  The  author  himself  was  too  acute  to  see 
more  in  it  than — what  it  certainly  is — a  fair  Presump- 
tion. And  he  would  probably  have  owned  that  it  might 
be  met  by  a  counter-presumption. 

When  any  science  or  pursuit  has  been  unduly  and 
unwisely  followed,  to  the  neglect  of  others,  and  has 
even  been  intruded  into  their  province,  we  may  presume 
that  a  re-action  will  be  likely  to  ensue,  and  an  equally 
excessive  contempt,  ordread;  or  abhorrence,  to  succeed 
*  See  "  Charges  and  other  Tracts,"  p.  447. 


96  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  1 

And  the  same  kind  of  re-action  occurs  in  every  depart- 
ment of  life.  It  is  thus  that  the  thraldom  of  gross  su- 
perstition and  tyrannical  priestcraft  have  so  often  led  to 
irreligion.  It  is  thus  that  "  several  valuable  medicines, 
which  when  first  introduced,  were  proclaimed,  each  as 
a  panacea,  infallible  in  the  most  opposite  disorders,  fell, 
consequently,  in  many  instances,  for  a  time,  into  total 
disuse  :  though  afterwards  they  were  established  in  theii 
just  estimation,  and  employed  conformably  to  their  real 
properties."* 

So,  it  might  have  been  said,  in  the  present  case,  the 
mistaken  and  absurd  cultivation  of  Logic  during  ages 
of  great  intellectual  darkness,  might  be  expected  to 
produce,  in  a  subsequent  age  of  comparative  light,  an 
association  in  men's  minds,  of  Logic,  with  the  idea  of 
apathetic  ignorance,  prejudice,  and  adherence  to  error  ; 
so  that  the  legitimate  uses  and  just  value  of  Logic, 
supposing  it  to  have  any,  would  be  likely  to  be  scorn- 
fully overlooked.  Our  ancestors,  it  might  have  been 
said,  having  neglected  to  raise  fresh  crops  of  corn,  and 
contented  themselves  with  vainly  thrashing  over  and 
over  again  the  same  straw,  and  winnowing  the  same 
chaff,  it  might  be  expected  that  their  descendants  would, 
for  a  time,  regard  the  very  operations  of  thrashing  and 
winnowing  with  contempt,  and  would  attempt  to  grind 
corn,  chaff,  and  straw,  all  tog-ether. 

Such  might  have  been,  at  that  time,f  a  statement  o 
the  counter-presumptions  on  this  point. 

*  Elements  of  Logic,  Pref.  p.  viii. 

t  It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that  the  very  person  to  whom  that 
letter  was  addressed  should  have  lived  to  witness  so  great  a  change 
of  public  opinion  brought  about — in  a  great  degree  through  his  own 
instrumentality—  within  the  short  interval  between  the  writing  ot 
that  letter  and  its  publication,  (indeed  within  a  small  portion  of  that 
short  interval,)  that  the  whole  ground  of  the  presumption  alluded 
to  has  been  completely  cut  away.  During  that  interval  the  Article 
on  L~gic  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana  was,  with  his  aid, 
drawn  up  ;  and  attracted  so  much  attention  as  to  occasion  its  pub- 
lication in  a  separate  volume,  of  which  the  eighth  edition  is  now 
before  the  English  public  ;  each  edition  having  been  larger  than 
the  preceding  :  besides  reprints  of  the  treatise  in  America,  where 


Chap.  III.  §  2.]      OF  CONVICTION.  %f 

It  might  be  hastily  imagined  that  there  is  no  neces. 
necessarily  an  advantage  in  having  the  pre-  sair  advan- 
sumption  on  one  side,  and  the  burden  of  ^f®  ^  the 
proof  on  the  adversary's.  But  it  is  often  which  the 
much  the  reverse.  E.  G.  "  In  no  other  £r0enSIJ™sp" 
instance  perhaps,"  (says  Dr.  Hawkins,  in 
his  valuable  Essay  on  Tradition,)  "  besides  that  of 
religion,  do  m^n  commit  the  very  illogical  mistake,  of 
first  canvassing  all  the  objections  against  any  particular 
system  whose  pretensions  to  truth  they  would  examine, 
before  they  consider  the  direct  arguments  in  its  favour." 
(P.  82.)  But  why,  it  may  be  asked,  do  they  make  such 
a  mistake  in  this  case?  An  answer  which  I  think 
would  apply  to  a  large  proportion  of  such  persons,  is 
this :  because  a  man  having  been  brought  up  in  a 
Christian  country,  has  lived  perhaps  among  such  as 
have  been  accustomed  from  their  infancy  to  take  for 
granted  the  truth  of  their  religion,  and  even  to  regard 
an  uninquiring  assent  as  a  mark  of  commendable/a^/i  ,* 
and  hence  he  has  probably  never  even  thought  of  pro- 
posing to  himself  the  question — Why  should  I  receive 
Christianity  as  a  divine  revelation  ?  Christianity  being 
nothing  nevj  to  him,  and  the  presumption  being  in  favour 
of  it,  while  the  burden  of  proof  lies  on  its  opponents, 
he  is  not  stimulated  to  seek  reasons  for  believing  it,  till 
he  finds  it  controverted.  And  when  it  is  controverted 
— when  an  opponent  urges — How  do  you  reconcile 
this,  and  that,  and  the  other,  with  the  idea  of  a  divine 
revelation,  these  objections  strike  by  their  novelty — by 
their  being  opposed  to  what  is  geneially  received.  He 
is  thus  excited  to  inquiry;  which  he  sets  about — natu- 
rally enough,  but  very  unwisely — by  seeking  for 
answers  to  all  these  objections :  and  fancies  that  unless 

it  is  in  use  I  believe  in  every  college  throughout  the  United  States  , 
and  besides  sundry  abridgments  and  elementary  works  more  or 
less  borrowed  from  that  Article.  Certainly  if  Lord  Dudley  were 
now  living,  he  would  not  speak  of  the  general  neglect  and  contempt 
of  Logic  ;  though  every  branch  of  Science,  Philosophy  and  Litem 
ture  have  nourished  during  the  interval. 


fc8  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  I. 

they  can  all  be  satisfactorily  solved,  he  ought  not  to 
receive  the  religion.  "  As  if,  (says  the  Author  already 
cited)  there  could  not  be  truth,  and  truth  supported  by 
irrefragable  arguments,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  obnox- 
ious to  objections,  numerous,  plausible,  and  by  no  means 
easy  of  solution."  "  There  are  objections  (said  Dr. 
Johnson)  against  a  plenum  and  objections  against  a 
vacuum ;  but  one  of  them  must  be  true."  He  adds  that 
"  sensible  men  really  desirous  of  discovering  the  truth, 
will  perceive  that  reason  directs  them  to  examine  first 
the  argument  in  favour  of  that  side  of  the  question, 
where  the  first  presumption  of  truth  appears.  And  the 
presumption  is  manifestly  in  favour  of  that  religious 
creed  already  adopted  by  the  country  .  .  .  Their  very 
earliest  inquiry  therefore  must  be  into  the  direct  argu- 
ments, for  the  authority  of  that  book  on  which  then 
country  rests  its  religion." 

But  reasonable  as  such  a  procedure  is,  there  is,  as  J 
have  said,  a  strong  temptation,  and  one  which  should  be 
carefully  guarded  against,  to  adopt  the  opposite  course  ■ 
to  attend  first  to  the  objections  which  are  brought 
against  what  is  established,  and  which,  for  that  very 
reason,  rouse  the  mind  from  a  state  of  apathy.  Accor- 
dingly, I  have  not  found  that  this  "  very  illogical  mis- 
take" is  by  any  means  peculiar  to  the  case  of  religion. 

When  Christianity  was  first  preached,  the  state  ol 
things  was  reversed.  The  Presumption  was  against  it, 
as  being  a  novelty.  "  Seeing  that  all  these  things 
cannot  be  spoken  against,  ye  ought  to  be  quiet  "  was  a 
sentiment  which  favoured  an  indolent  acquiescence  in 
the  old  Pagan  worship.  The  stimulus  of  novelty  was 
all  on  the  side  of  those  who  came  to  overthrow  this,  by 
a  new  religion.  The  first  inquiry  of  any  one  who  ai 
all  attended  to  the  subject,  must  have  been,  not — What 
are  the*  objections  to  Christianity  ? — but  on  what 
grounds  do  these  men  call  on  me  to  receive  them  as 
divine  messengers  ?  And  the  same  appears  to  be  the 
case  with  those  Polynesians  among  whom  our  mission- 


Chap.  III.  §  3.]        OF  CONVICTION.  0$ 

aries  are  labouring  :  they  begin  by  inquiring--"  Why 
should  we  receive  this  religion?''  And  those  of  them 
accordingly  who  have  embraced  it,  appear  to  be  Chris- 
tians on  a  much  more  rational  and  deliberate  conviction 
than  many  among  us,  even  of  those  who,  in  general 
maturity  of  intellect  and  civilisation,  are  advanced  con- 
siderably beyond  those  Islanders. 

I  am  not  depreciating  the  inestimable  advantages  of  a 
religious  education ;  but,  pointing  out  the  peculiar  temp- 
tations which  accompany  it.  The  Jews  and  Pagans  had, 
in  their  early  prejudices,  greater  difficulties  to  surmount 
than  ours;  but  they  were  difficulties  of  a  different  kind.* 

Thus  much  may  suffice  to  show  the  importance  of 
taking  this  preliminary  view  of  the  state  of  each  ques- 
tion to  be  discussed. 

§  3.  Matters  of  opinion,  (as  they  are  call-  Matters  of 
ed;  i.  e.  where  we  are  not  said  properly  to  Fact  and  ot 
know  but  to  judge,)  are  established  chiefly  °Pimon- 
by  Antecedent-probability,  (Arguments  of  the  first  class, 
viz.  from  Cause  to  Effect :)  though  the  Testimony  (i.  e. 
authority)  of  wise  men  is  also  admissible  :  past  Facts, 
chiefly  by  Signs,  of  various  kinds  ;  (that  term,  it  must 
be  remembered,  including  Testimony  ;)  and  future 
events,  by  Antecedent-probabilities,  and  Examples. 

Example,  however,  is  not  excluded  from  the  proof  of 
matters  of  Opinion ;  since  a  man's  judgment  in  one  case, 
may  be  aided  or  corrected  by  an  appeal  to  his  judgment 
in  another  similar  case.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  are 
directed,  by  the  highest  authority,  to  guide  our  judgment 
in  those  questions  in  which  we  are  most  liable  to  de- 
ceive ourselves;  viz.  what,  on  each  occasion,  ought  to 
be  our  conduct  towards  another ;  we  are  directed  to 
frame  for  ourselves  a  similar  supposed  case,  by  imagin- 
ing ourselves  to  change  places  with  our  neighbour,  and 
then  considering  how,  in  that  case,  we  should  in  fair- 
ness expect  to  be  treated. 

This  however,  which  is  the  true  use  of  the  celebrated 

*  Logic,  Appendix. 


tOO  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  L 

fuecept  "  to  do  as  we  would  be  done  by,"  is  often  over- 
ooked  ;  and  it  is  sp jken  of  as  if  it  were  a  iule  designed 
to  supersede  all  other  moral  maxims,  and  to  teach  us  the 
intrinsic  character  of  Right  and  Wrong.  This  absurd 
mistake  may  be  one  cause  why  the  precept  is  so  much 
more  talked  of  than  attempted  to  be  applied.  For  it 
could  not  be  applied  with  any  good  result  by  one  who 
should  have  no  notions  already  formed  of  what  is  just 
and  unjust.  To  take  one  instance  out  of  many  ;  if  he 
had  to  decide  a  dispute  between  two  of  his  neighbours, 
he  would  be  sure  that  each  was  wishing  for  a  decision 
in  his  own  favour ;  and  he  would  be  at  a  loss  therefore 
how  to  comply  with  the  precept  in  respect  of  either, 
without  violating  it  in  respect  of  the  other.  The  true 
meaning  of  the  precept  plainly  is,  that  you  should  do 
to  another,  not  necessarily  what  you  would  wish,  but 
what  you  would  expect  as  fair  and  reasonable,  if  you 
were  in  his  place.  This  evidently  presupposes  that 
you  have  a  knowledge  of  what  is  fair  and  reasonable : 
and  the  precept  then  furnishes  a  formula  for  the  appli- 
cation of  this  knowledge  in  a  case  where  you  would  be 
liable  to  be  blinded  by  self-partiality. 

A  very  good  instance  of  an  argument  drawn  from  a 
"  parallel  case  "  in  which  most  men's  judgments  would 
lead  them  aright,  I  have  met  with  in  a  memoir  of  Roger 
Williams,  a  settler  in  North  America  in  the  17th  cen- 
tury, who  was  distinguished  as  a  zealous  missionary 
among  the  Indians,  and  also  as  an  advocate  of  the  then 
unpopular  doctrine  of  religious  liberty. 

"  He  was  at  all  times  and  under  all  changes,  the  un- 
daunted champion  of  religious  freedom.  It  was  speedi- 
ly professed  by  him  on  his  arrival  among  those  who 
60ught  in  America  a  refuge  from  persecution ;  and 
gtrange  as  it  may  seem,  it  was  probably  the  first  thing 
that  excited  the  prejudices  of  the  Massachusetts  and 
Plymouth  rulers  against  him.  He  was  accused  of  carry- 
ing this  favourite  doctrine  so  far,  as  to  exempt  from 
punishment  any  criminal  who  pleaded  conscience.     But 


6'HAr.  III.  §  3.]       OF  Ct>r.  FICTION.  l&\ 

Jet  his  own  words  exculpate  him  from  this  charge. 
♦That  ever  I  should  speak  or  write  a  tittle  that  tends  to 
such  an  infinite  liberty  of  conscience,  is  a  mistake,  and 
which  I. have  ever  disclaimed  and  abhorred  To  pre- 
vent such  mistakes,  I  at  present  shall  only  propose  this 
case.  There  goes  many  a  ship  to  sea  with  many  hun- 
dred souls  in  one  ship,  whose  weal  and  woe  is  common  ; 
and  is  a  true  picture  of  a  commonwealth,  or  an  human 
combination  or  society.  It  hath  fallen  out,  sometimes, 
that  both  Papists  and  Protestants,  Jews  and  Turks,  may 
be  embarked  into  one  ship.  Upon  which  supposal,  1 
affirm  that  all  the  liberty  of  conscience,  that  ever  1 
pleaded  for,  turns  upon  these  two  hinges,  that  none  of 
the  Papists,  Protestants,  Jews,  or  Turks,  be  forced  to 
come  to  the  ship's  prayers,  nor  compelled  from  their 
own  particular  prayers,  or  worship,  if  they  practise  any. 
I  further  add,  that  I  never  denied,  that  notwithstanding 
this  liberty,  the  commander  of  this  ship  ought  to  com- 
mand the  ship's  course;  yea,  and  also  command  that 
justice,  peace,  and  sobriety  be  kept  and  practised,  both 
among  the  seamen  and  all  the  passengers.  H  any  of 
the  seamen  refuse  to  perform  their  service,  or  passen- 
gers to  pay  their  freight ;  if  any  refuse  to  help  in  persoi, 
or  purse,  toward  the  common  charges  or  defence ;  if 
any  refuse  to  obey  the  common  laws  and  orders  of  the 
ship  concerning  their  common  peace  or  preservation  ; 
if  any  shall  mutiny  and  rise  up  against  their  comman- 
ders and  officers,  if  any  should  preach  or  write,  that 
there  ought  to  be  no  commanders  nor  officers,  because 
all  are  equal  in  Christ,  therefore  no  masters  nor  officers, 
no  laws  nor  orders,  no  corrections  nor  punishments,  I 
say  I  never  denied  but  in  such  cases,  whatever  is  pre- 
tended, the  commander  or  commanders  may  judge,  re- 
sist, compel,  and  punish  such  transgressors,  according 
to  their  deserts  and  merits.'  " 

It  happens  more  frequently  than  not,  how-  Expianato 
ever,  that,  when  in  the  discussion  of  matters  ry  Exam- 
of  Opinion,  an  Example  is  introduced,  it  is    ples* 


,:0»  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Pakt  1 

designed,  not  for  Argument,  but,  strictly  speaking,  for 
illustration ; — not  to  prove  the  proposition  in  question, 
but  to  make  it  more  clearly  understood ;  e.  g.  the  Pro- 
position maintained  by  Cicero  (de  Off.  book  iii.)  is  what 
may  be  accounted  a  matter  of  Opinion  ;  viz.  that  "  noth- 
ing is  expedient  which  is  dishonourable  ;"  when  then 
he  adduces  the  example  of  the  supposed  design  of 
Themistocles  to  burn  the  allied  fleet,  which  he  main- 
tains, in  contradiction  to  Aristides,  would  have  been  in- 
expedient, because  unjust,  it  is  manifest,  that  we  must 
understand  the  instance  brought  forward  as  no  more 
than  an  Illustration  of  the  general  principle  he  intends 
to  establish ;  since  it  would  be  a  plain  begging  of  the 
question  to  argue  from  a  particular  assertion,  which 
could 'only  be  admitted  by  those  who  assented  to  the 
general  principle. 

It  is  important  to  distinguish  between  these  two  uses 
of  Example ;  that,  on  the  one  hand  we  may  not  be  led 
to  mistake  for  an  Argument  such  a  one  as  the  fore- 
going ;  and  that  on  the  other  hand,  we  may  not  too 
hastily  charge  with  sophistry  him  who  adduces  such  a 
one  simply  with  a  view  to  explanation. 

Our  Lord's  Parables  are  mostly  of  the  explanatory 
kind.  His  discourses  generally  indeed  are  but  little  ar 
gumentative.  "  He  taught  as  one  having  authority  ;" 
stating  and  explaining  his  doctrines,  and  referring  for 
proof  to  his  actions.  "  The  ivorks  that  I  do  in  m) 
Father's  name,  they  bear  witness  of  me." 
illustration  ^  ^s  a^s0  °*  ^e  greatest  consequence  to  dis- 
and  simile  tinguish  between  Examples  (of  the  invented 
distinguish-  ynd)  properly  so  called — i.  e.  which  have  the 
force  of  Arguments — and  Comparisons  intro- 
duced for  the  ornament  of  style,  in  the  form,  either  of  Si- 
mile, as  it  is  called,  or  Metaphor.  Not  only  is  an  inge- 
nious comparison  often  mistaken  for  a  proof,  though  it  be 
such  as,  when  tried  by  the  rules  laid  down  here  and  in 
the  treatise  on  Logic,  afford.*  no  proof  at  all  ;*  but  also, 

*  The  pleasure  derived  from  taking  in  the  author's  meaning. 


Chap.  III.  §  3.]      OF  CONVICTION.  103 

an  the  other  hand,  a  real  and  valid  argument  is  not  un- 
frequently  considered  merely  as  an  ornament  of  Style, 
if  it  happen  to  be  such  as  to  produce  that  effect ,  though 
there  is  evidently  no  reason  why  that  should  not  be  fair 
Analogical  Reasoning,  in  which  the  new  idea  introduc 
ed  by  the  Analogy  chances  to  be  a  sublime  or  a  pleas- 
ing one.  E.  G.  "  The  efficacy  of  penitence,  and  piety, 
and  prayer,  in  rendering  the  Deity  propitious,  is  not  irre- 
concileable  with  the  immutability  of  his  nature,  and  the 
steadiness  of  his  purposes.  It  is  not  in  man's  power  to 
alter  the  course  of  the  sun ;  but  it  is  often  in  his  power 
to  cause  the  sun  to  shine  or  not  to  shine  upon  him  :  if  he 
withdraws  from  its  beams,  or  spreads  a  curtain  before 
him,  the  sun  no  longer  shines  on  him ;  if  he  quits  the 
shade?  or  removes  the  curtain,  the  light  is  restored  to 
him ;  and  though  no  change  is  in  the  mean  time  effect- 
ed in  the  heavenly  luminary,  but  only  in  himself,  the 
result  is  the  same  as  if  it  were.  Nor  is  the  immutability 
of  God  any  reason  why  the  returning  sinner,  who  tears 
away  the  veil  of  prejudice  or  of  indifference,  should  not 
again  be  blessed  with  the  sunshine  of  divine  favour." 
The  image  here  introduced  is  ornamental,  but  the  Argu- 
ment is  not  the  less  perfect ;  since  the  case  adduced 
fairly  establishes  the  general  principle  required,  that  "  a, 
change  effected  in  one  of  two  objects  having  a  certair. 
relation  to  each  other,  may  have  the  same  practical  re- 
sult as  if  it  had  taken  place  in  the  other."* 

The  mistake  in  question  is  still  more  likely  to  occur 
when  such  an  Argument  is  conveyed  in  a  single  term 
employed   metaphorically ;    as   is   generally   the   case 


when  an  ingenious  Comparison  is  employed,  (referred  by  Aristo 
tie  to  the  pleasure  of  the  act  of  learning,)  is  so  great,  that  the  reader 
or  hearer  is  apt  to  mistake  his  apprehension  of  this  for  a  perception 
of  a  just  and  convincing  analogy.  See  part  hi.  ch.  2.  §3.  See  Ap- 
pendix [F.]  for  two  instances  of  "  explanatory  illustration,"  both 
«f  them  highly  ornamental  also. 

*  For  an  instance  of  a  highly  beautiful,  and  at  the  same  time  ar 
gumentative  comparison,  see  Appendix,  [G.]  It  appears  to  me  that 
the  passage  printed  in  italics  affords  a  reason  for  thinking  it  proba- 
ble that  tiin  causes  of  the  Apostles'  conduct  are  rierhtly  assigned. 


104  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part! 

where  the  allusion  is  common  and  obvious ;  e  g.  "  Wc 
do  not  receive  as  the  genuine  doctrines  of  the  primitive 
Church  what  have  passed  down  the  polluted  stream  of 
Tradition  "  The  Argument  here  is  not  the  less  valid 
for  being  conveyed  in  the  form  of  a  Metaphor.* 

The  employment,- in  questions  relating  to  the  future, 
both  of  the  Argument  from  Example,  and  of  that  from 
Cause  to  Effect,  may  be  explained  from  what  has  been 
already  said  concerning  the  connexion  between  them; 
some  Cause,  whether  known  or  not,  being  always  sup 
posed,  whenever  an  Example  is  adduced. 
Arguments  §  4.  When  Arguments  of  each  of  the  two 
from  Cause  formerly-mentioned  classes  are  employed, 
have  the  those  from  Cause  to  Effect  (Antecedent- 
precedence,  probability)  have  usually  the  precedence. 

Men  are  apt  to  listen  with  prejudice  to  the  argu- 
ments adduced  to  prove  any  thing  which  appears  ab 
stractedly  improbable ;  i.  e.  according  to  what  has  been 
above  laid  down,  unnatural,  or  (if  such  an  expression 
might  be  allowed)  implausible ;  and  this  prejudice  is  to 
be  removed  by  the  Argument  from  Cause  to  Effect, 
which  thus  prepares  the  way  for  the  reception  of  the 
other  arguments.  E.  G.  If  a  man  who  bore  a  good 
character  were  accused  of  corruption,  the  strongest  evi- 
dence against  him  might  avail  little;  but  if  he  were 
proved  to  be  of  a  covetous  disposition,  this,  though  it 
would  not  alone  be  allowed  to  substantiate  the  crime, 
would  have  great  weight  in  inducing  his  judges  to  lend 
an  ear  to  the  evidence.  And  thus,  in  what  relates  to 
the  future  also,  the  a  priori  Argument  and  Example 
support  each  other,  when  thus  used  in  conjunction,  and 
in  the  ord^r  prescribed.  A  sufficient  Cause  being  es- 
tablished, leaves  us  still  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  there 
may  be  circumstances  which  will  prevent  the  effect  from 
taking  place ;  but  Examples  subjoined  show  that  these 
circumstances  do  not,  at  least  always,  prevent  that  ef- 
fect.    On  the  other  hand,  Examples  introduced  at  the 

*  See.  Pari  iii.  ch.  2. !)  4. 


Chap.  Ill  §  4.3      OF  CONVICTION.  105 

first,  may  be  suspected  of  being  exceptions  to  the  gene- 
ral rule,  (unless  they  are  very  numerous,)  instead  of 
being  instances  of  it ;  which  an  adequate  Cause  previ- 
ously assigned  will  show  them  to  be.  E.  G.  If  any 
one  had  argued,  from  the  temptations  and  opportunities 
occurring  to  a  military  commander,  that  Buonaparte 
was  likely  to  establish  a  despotism  on  the  ruins  of  the 
French  Republic,  this  argument,  by  itself,  would  have 
left  men  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  such  a  result  would 
be  prevented  by  a  jealous  attachment  to  liberty  in  the 
citizens,  and  a  fellow-feeling  of  the  soldiery  with  them  ; 
then,  the  Examples  of  Caesar  and  of  Cromwell,  would 
have  proved  that  such  preventives  are  not  to  be 
trusted. 

Aristotle  accordingly  has  remarked  on  the  expediency 
of  not  placing  Examples  in  the  foremost  rank  of  argu- 
ments ;  in  which  case,  he  says,  a  considerable  number 
would  be  requisite  ;  whereas,  in  confirmation,  even  one 
will  have  much  weight.  This  observation,  however, 
he  omits  to  extend,  as  he  might  have  done,  to  Testi- 
mony and  every  other  kind  of  Sign,  to  which  it  is  no 
less  applicable. 

Another  reason  for  adhering  to  the  order  here  pre- 
scribed is,  that  if  the  Argument  from  Cause  to  Effect 
were  placed  after  the  others,  a  doubt  might  often  exist, 
whether  we  were  engaged  in  proving  the  point  in 
question,  or  (assuming  it  as  already  proved)  in  seeking 
only  to  account  for  it ;  that  Argument  being,  by  the 
very  nature  of  it,  such  as  would  account  for  the  truth 
contended  for,  supposing  it  were  granted.  Constant 
care,  therefore,  is  requisite  to  guard  against  any  confu- 
sion or  indistinctness  as  to  the  object  in  each  case 
proposed ;  whether  that  be,  when  a  proposition  is 
admitted,  to  assign  a  cause  which  does  account  for  it, 
(which  is  one  of  the  classes  of  Propositions  formerly 
noticed,)  or,  when  it  is  not  admitted,  to  prove  it  by  an 
Argument  of  that  kind  which  would  account  for  it,  if 
it  were  granted. 

9 


106  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.         [Part  I 

With  a  view  to  the  Arrangement  of  arguments,  n<* 
rule  is  of  more  importance  than  the  one  now  under 
consideration ;  and  Arrangement  is  a  more  important 
noint  than  is  generally  supposed ;  indeed  it  is  not 
perhaps  of  less  consequence  in  Composition  than  in  the 
Military  Art;  in  which  it  is  well  known,  that  with  an 
equality  of  forces,  in  numbers,  courage,  and  every  other 
point,  the  manner  in  which  they  are  drawn  up,  so  as 
either  to  afford  mutual  support,  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
even  to  impede  and  annoy  each  other,  may  make  the 
difference  of  victory  or  defeat.* 

E.  G.  In  the  statement  of  the  Evidences  of  our 
Religion,  so  as  to  give  them  their  just  weight,  much 
depends  on  the  Order  in  which  they  are  placed.  The 
Antecedent-probability  that  a  Revelation  should  be 
given  to  Man,  and  that  it  should  be  established  by 
miracles,  all  would  allow  to  be,  considered  by  itself,  in 
the  absence  of  strong  direct  testimony,  utterly  insuffi- 
cient to  establish  the  Conclusion.  On  the  other  hand, 
miracles  considered  abstractedly,  as  represented  to  have 
occurred  without  any  occasion  or  reason  for  them  being 
assigned,  carry  with  them  such  a  strong  intrinsic  impro- 
bability as  could  not  be  wholly  surmounted  even  by 
such  evidence  as  would  fully  establish  any  other 
matters  of  fact.  But  the  evidences  of  the  former  class, 
however  inefficient  alone  towards  the  establishment  of 
the  conclusion,  have  very  great  weight  in  preparing  the 
mind  for  receiving  the  other  arguments;  which  again, 
though  they  would  be  listened  to  with  prejudice  if  not 
so  supported,  will  then  be  allowed  their  just  weight. 
The  writers  in  defence  of  Christianity  have  not  always 
attended  to  this  principle ;  and  their  opponents  have 

*  A  great  advantage  in  this  point  is  possessed  by  the  Specker 
over  the  Writer.  The  Speaker  compels  his  hearers  to  consider  the 
several  points  brought  before  them,  in  the  order  which  he  thinks 
best.  Readers  on  the  contrary  will  sometimes,  by  dipping  into  a 
book,  or  examining  the  Table  of  Contents,  light  on  something  so 
revolting  to  some  prejudice,  that  though  they  might  have  admitted 
the  proofs  of  it  if  they  had  read  in  thr.  order  designed,  they  may  at 
once  close  the  book  in  disgust. 


ohap.  HI.  §  4.]       OF  CONVICTION.  107 

often  availed  themselves  of  the  knowledge  of  it,  by 
combating  in  detail,  arguments,  the  combined  force  of 
which  would  have  been  irresistible.*  They  argue 
respecting  the  credibility  of  the  Christian  miracles, 
abstractedly,  as  if  they  were  insulated  occurrences, 
without  any  known  or  conceivable  purpose ;  as  E.  G. 
"  what  testimony  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  belief 
that  a  dead  man  was  restored  to  life  ?"  and  then  they 
proceed  to  show  that  the  probability  of  a  Revelation, 
abstractedly  considered,  is  not  such  at  least  as  to 
establish  the  fact  that  one  has  been  given.  Whereas., 
if  it  were  first  proved  (as  may  easily  be  done)  merely 
that  there  is  no  such  abstract  improbability  of  a  Reve- 
lation as  to  exclude  the  evidence  in  favour  of  it,  and 
that  if  one  were  given,  it  must  be  expected  to  be  sup- 
ported by  miraculous  evidence,  then,  just  enough 
reason  would  be  assigned  for  the  occurrence  of  mira- 
cles, not  indeed  to  establish  them,  but  to  allow  a  fair 
hearing  for  the  arguments  by  which  they  are  proved. f 
The  importance  attached  to  the  Arrange-  importance 
ment  of  arguments  by  the  two  great  rival  of  arrange- 
orators  of  Athens,  may  serve  to  illustrate  men  ' 
and  enforce  what  has  been  said.  iEschines  strongly 
urged  the  judges  (in  the  celebrated  contest  concerning 
the  crown)  to  contine  his  adversary  to  the  same  order, 
in  his  reply  to  the  charges  brought,  which  he  himself 
had  observed  in  bringing  them  forward.  Demosthenes, 
however,  was  far  too  skilful  to  be  thus  entrapped ;  and 
so  much  importance  does  he  attach  to  this  point,  that 
he  opens  his  speech  with  a  most  solemn  appeal  to  the 
Judges  for  an  impartial  hearing ;  which  implies,  he  says, 
not  only  a  rejection  of  prejudice,  but  no  less  also,  a 
permission  for  each  speaker  to  adopt  whatever  Arrange- 
ment he  should  think  fit.  And  accordingly  he  proceeds 
to  adopt  one  very  different  from  that  which  his  antago- 
nist had  laid  down ;  for  he  was  no  less  sensible  than 
ids  rival,  that  the  same  Arrangement  which  is  the 

"  8ee^  4  ch.  2.  t  See  Palcy's  Evidences,  Introd 


i08  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  1 

most  favourable  to  one  side,  is  likely  to  be  the  least 
favourable  to  the  other. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  rules  which 
have  been  given  respecting  the  Order  in  which  different 
kinds  of  Argument  should  be  arranged,  relate  only  to 
the  different  kinds  adduced  in  support  of  each  separate 
Proposition  ;  since  of  course  the  refutation  of  an  opposed 
assertion,  effected  by  means  of  Signs,  may  be  followed 
by  an  a  priori  argument  in  favour  of  our  own  Conclu- 
sion ;  and  the  like,  in  many  other  such  cases. 
When  the  §  5.  A  Proposition  that  is  well  known 
premises  (whether  easy  to  be  established  or  not)  and 
the  conclu-  wriicn  contains  nothing  particularly  offen- 
sion  should  sive,  should  in  general  be  stated  at  once, 
come  first.  an(j  tne  p]0ofs  subjoined ;  but  if  it  be  not 
familiar  to  the  hearers,  and  especially  if  it  be  likely  to 
be  unacceptable,  it  is  usually  better  to  state  the  argu- 
ments first,  or  at  least  some  of  them,  and  then  introduce 
the  Conclusion:  thus. assuming  in  some  degree  the 
character  of  an  investigator- 

There  is  no  question  relating  to  Arrangement  more 
important  than  the  present;  audit  is  therefore  the  more 
unfortunate  that  Cicero,  who  possessed  so  much  prac- 
tical skill,  should  have  laid  down  no  rule  on  this  poin< 
(though  it  is  one  which  evidently  had  engaged  his  at- 
tention,) but  should  content  himself  with  saying  that 
sometimes  he  adopted  the  one  mode  and  sometimes  the 
other,*  (which  doubtless  he  did  not  do  at  random,) 
without  distinguishing  the  cases  in  which  each  is  to  be 
preferred,  and  laying  down  principles  to  guide  our  deci 
sion.  Aristotle  also,  when  he  lays  down  the  two  greai 
heads  into  which  a  speech  is  divisible,  the  Proposition 
and  the  Proof,t  is  equally  silent  as  to  the  order  in  which 
they  should  be  placed  ;  though  he  leaves  it  to  be  under 
stood,  from  his  manner  of  speaking,  that  the  Conclusion 
(or  Question)  is  to  be  first  stated,  and  then  the  Premises, 
as  in  Mathematics.     This  indeed  is  the  usual  and  natu- 

*  De  Orat  t  Rhet.  book  in 


Chap.  III.  §  5]       OF  CONVICTION.  109 

ral  way  of  speaking  or  writing  ;  viz.  to  begin  by  de- 
claring your  opinion,  and  then  to  subjoin  the  Reasons 
for  it.  But  there  are  many  occasions  on  which  it  will 
be  of  the  highest  consequence  to  reverse  this  plan.  It 
will  sometimes  give  an  offensively  dogmatical  air  to  a 
composition,  to  begin  by  advancing  some  new  and  un- 
expected assertion  ;  though  sometimes  again  this  may 
be  advisable,  when  the  arguments  are  such  as  can  be 
well  relied  on,  and  the  principal  object  is  to  excite  atten- 
tion, and  awaken  curiosity.  And  accordingly,  with  this 
view,  it  is  not  unusual  to  present  some  doctrine,  by  no 
means  really  novel,  in  a  new  and  paradoxical  shape. 
But  when  the  Conclusion  to  be  established  is  one  likely 
to  hurt  the  feelings  and  offend  the  prejudices  of  the 
hearers,  it  is  essential  to  keep  out  of  sight,  as  much  as 
possible,  the  point  to  which  we  are  tending,  till  the 
principles  from  which  it  is  to  be  deduced  shall  have 
been  clearly  established ;  because  men  listen  with  pre- 
judice, if  at  all,  to  arguments  that  are  avowedly  leading 
to  a  conclusion  which  they  are  indisposed  to  admit ; 
whereas  if  we  thus,  as  it  were,  mask  the  battery,  they 
will  not  be  able  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  dis- 
charge. The  observance  accordingly,  or  neglect  of  this 
rule,  will  often  make  the  difference  of  success  or  failure.* 

It  may  be  observed,  that  if  the  Proposition  to  be  main- 
tained be  such  as  the  hearers  are  likely  to  regard  as 
insignificant,  the  question  should  be  at  first  suppressed  ; 
but  if  there  be  any  thing  offensive  to  their  prejudices, 
the  question  may  be  stated,  but  the  decision  of  it,  for  a 
time,  kept  back. 

And  it  will  often  be  advisable  to  advance  very  gra- 
dually to  the  full  statement  of  the  Proposition  required, 
and  to  prove  it,  if  one  may  so  speak,  by  instalments ; 
establishing  separately,  and  in  order,  each  part  of  the 

♦  See  note,  p.  106,  ante.  It  may  be  added,  that  it  is  not  only  noth- 
ing dishonest,  but  is  a  point  of  pacific  charitableness  as  well  as  ol 
discretion,  in  any  discussion  with  any  one,  to  begin  with  points  oi 
agreement  rather  than  of  disagreement. 


150  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Pari  1 

truth  in  question.  It  is  thus  that  Aristotle  establishes 
many  of  his  doctrines,  and  among  others  his  definition 
of  Happiness,  in  the  beginning  of  the  Nicomachean 
Ethics  ;  he  first  proves  in  what  it  does  not  consist,  and 
then  establishes,  one  by  one,  the  several  points  which 
together  constitute  his  notion. 

Thus  again,  Paley  (in  his  Evidences)  first  proves  that 
the  apostles,  &c.  suffered  ;  next  that  they  encountered 
their  sufferings  knowingly ;  then,  that  it  was  for  'their 
testimony  that  they  suffered  ;  then,  that  the  events  they 
testified  were  "miraculous;  then,  that  those  events  were 
the  same  as  are  recorded  in  our  books,  &c.  &c. 

In  public  meetings  the  measure  ultimately  adopted 
will  usually  have  been  proposed  in  a  series  of  resolu 
tions;  each  of  which  successively  will  perhaps  have 
been  carried  by  a  large  majority,  in  cases  where,  if  the 
whole  had  been  proposed  in  a  mass,  it  would  have  been 
rejected  ;  some  persons  feeling  objections  to  one  portion, 
and  others  to  another. 

It  will  often  happen  again  that  some  general  princi- 
ple of  no  very  paradoxical  character  may  be  proposed 
in  the  outset ;  and  when  that  is  established,  an  unex- 
pected and  unwelcome  application  of  it  may  be  proved 
irresistibly. 

Waiving  a  It  is  often  expedient,  sometimes  unavoida- 
question.  ble,  to  waive  for  the  present,  some  question 
or  portion  of  a  question,  while  pur  attention  is  occupied 
with  another  point.  Now  it  cannot  be  too  carefully 
kept  in  mind,  that  it  is  a  common  mistake  with  inaccu- 
rate reasoners  (and  a  mistake  which  is  studiously  kept 
up  by  an  artful  sophist)  to  suppose  that  what  is  thus 
waived  is  altogether  given  up.  "  Such  a  one  does  not 
attempt  to  prove  this  or  that :"  "  he  does  not  deny  so 
and  so :"  "  he  tacitly  admits  that  such  and  such  may  be 
the  case ;"  &c.  are  expressions  which  one  may  often 
hear  triumphantly  employed,  on  no  better  grounds. 
And  yet  it  is  very  common  in  Mathematics  ior  a  ques- 
tion to  be  waived  in  this  manner.     Euclid,  e.  g    firal 


Chap.  XII.  $  7.]       OF  CONVICTION.  m 

asserts  and  proves,  that  the  exterior  angle  of  a  triangte 
is  greater  than  either  of  the  interior  opposite  angles ; — 
without  being  able  to  determine  at  once,  how  much 
greater; — and  that  any  two  angles  of  a  triangle  are  less 
than  two  right  angles;  waiving  for  the  present,  the 
question,  how  much  less.  He  is  enabled  to  prove,  at  a 
more  advanced  stage,  that  the  exterior  angle  is  equal  to 
the  two  interior  opposite  angles  together ;  and  that  al] 
the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles 

The  only  remedy  is,  to  state  distinctly  and  repeatedly 
that  you  do  not  abandon,  as  untenable,  such  and  such 
a  position,  which  you  are  not  at  present  occupied  in 
maintaining ; — that  you  are  not  to  be  understood  as  ad- 
mitting the  truth  of  this  or  that,  though  you  do  not  at 
present  undertake  to  disprove  it. 

§  G.  If  the  Argument  a  priori  has  been  ^h^ 
introduced  in  the  proof  of  the  main  Proposi-  needful  to 
tion  in  question,  there  will  generally  be  no  account  for 
need  of  afterwards  adducing  Causes  to  ac-  an}  dC  ' 
count  for  the  truth  established ;  since  that  will  have 
been  already  done   in  the  course  of  the  Argument; 
on  the  other  hand,  it  will  often  be  advisable  to  do  this, 
when  arguments  of  the  other  class  have  alone  been  em- 
ployed. 

For  it  is  in  every  case  agreeable  and  satisfactory,  and 
may  often  be  of  great  utility,  to  explain,  where  it  can 
be  done,  the  Causes  which  produce  an  Effect  that  is  it- 
self already  admitted  to  exist.  But  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that,  it  is  of  great  importance  to  make  it  clearly 
appear  which  object  is,  in  each  case,  proposed  :  whether 
to  establish  the  fact,  or  to  account  for  it ;  since  otherwise 
we  may  often  be  supposed  to  be  employing  a  feeble  ar- 
gument. For  that  which  is  a  satisfactory  explanation 
of  an  admitted  fact,  will  frequently  be  such  as  would  be 
very  insufficient  to  prove  it,  supposing  it  were  doubted. 

§  7.  Refutation  of  Objections  should  gene- 
rally be  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  Argu-   ^futatioa 
aaent ;  but  nearer  the  beginning  than  the  end. 


112  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  1 

If  indeed  very  strong  objections  have  obtaii'.ed  much 
currency,  or  have  been  just  stated  by  an  opponent,  so 
that  what  is  asserted  is  likely  to  be  regarded  as  para- 
doxical, it  may  be  advisable  to  begin  with  a  Refutation ; 
but  when  this  is  not  the  case,  the  mention  of  Objections 
in  the  opening  will  be  likely  to  give  a  paradoxical  air 
to  our  assertion,  by  implying  a  consciousness  that  much 
may  be  said  against  it.  If  again  all  mention  of  Objec- 
tions be  deferred  till  the  last,  the  other  arguments  will 
often  be  listened  to  with  prejudice  by  those  who  may 
suppose  us  to  be  overlooking  what  may  be  urged  on 
the  other  side. 

Sometimes  indeed  it  will  be  difficult  to  give  a  satisfac- 
tory Refutation  of  the  opposed  opinions,  till  we  have 
gone  through  the  arguments  in  support  of  our  own : 
even  in  that  case  however  it  will  be  better  to  take  some 
brief  notice  of  them  early  in  the  Composition,  with  a 
promise  of  afterwards  considering  them  more  fully,  and 
refuting  them.     This  is  Aristotle's  usual  procedure. 

A  sophistical  use  is  often  made  of  this  last 
evasion.031  rule'  wnen  the  Objections  are  such  as  can- 
not really  be  satisfactorily  answered.  The 
skilful  sophist  will  often,  by  the  promise  of  a  trium- 
phant Refutation  hereafter,  gain  attention  to  his  own 
statement ;  which,  if  it  be  made  plausible,  will  so  draw 
off  the  hearer's  attention  from  the  Objections,  that  a  very 
inadequate  fulfilment  of  that  promise  wTill  pass  unno- 
ticed, and  due  weight  will  not  be  allowed  to  the 
Objections. 

It  may  be  worth  remarking,  that  Refutation  will  often 
occasion  the  introduction  of  fresh  Propositions ;  i.  e.  we 
may  have  to  disprove  Propositions,  which,  though  in- 
compatible with  the  principal  one  to  be  maintained,  will 
not  be  directly  contradictory  to  it :  e.  g.  Burke,  in  order 
to  the  establishment  of  his  theory  of  beauty,  refutes  the 
other  theories  which  have  been  advanced  by  those  who 
place  it  in  "  fitness,"  for  a  certain  end — in  "  proportion,1* 
— in  "  perfection,"  &c. ;  and  Dr  A.  Smith,  in  his  Th& 


Chju     II.  §  7.]      OF  CONVICTION  113 

pry  qf  Moral  Sentiments,  combats  the  opinion  of  those 
who  xuuke  "  expediency  the  test  of  virtue  " — of  the  ad- 
vocate of  a  "  Moral  sense,"  &c.  which  doctrines  re- 
spectively are  at  variance  with  those  of  these  authors, 
and  imply,  though  they  do  not  express,  a  contradiction 
of  them. 

Though  I  am  at  present  treating  principally  of  the 
proper  collocation  of  Refutation,  some  remarks  on  the 
conduct  of  it  will  pot  be  unsuitable  in  this  place.  In 
the  first  plsce,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  is  (as  Aris- 
totle remarks,  RheL  Book  ii.  apparently  in  opposition 
to  some  former  writers)  no  distinct  class  of  refutatory 
Argument ;  since  they  become  such  merely  by  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  they  are  employed. 
There  are  two  ways  in  which  any  Proposi-  ^^ml 
tion  may  be  refuted  ;*  first,  by  proving  the 
the  contradictory  of  it;  secondly,  by  overthrowing  the 
Arguments  by  which  it  has  been  supported.  The  for- 
mer of  these  is  less  strictly  and  properly  called  Refuta- 
tion ;  being  only  accidentally  such,  since  it  might  have 
been  employed  equally  well  had  the  opposite  Argument 
never  existed ;  and  in  fact  it  will  often  happen  that  a 
Proposition  maintained  by  one  author,  may  be  in  this 
way  refuted  by  another,  who  had  never  heard  of  his 
Arguments.  Thus  Pericles  is  represented  by  Thucy- 
dides  as  proving,  in  a  speech  to  the  Athenians,  the  pro- 
bability of  their  success  against  the  Peloponnesians ; 
and  thus,  virtually,  refuting  the  speech  of  the  Corinthi- 
an ambassador  at  Sparta,  who  had  laboured  to  show 
the  probability  of  their  speedy  downfall.f  In  fact 
every  one  who  argues  in  favour  of  any  Conclusion  iff 
virtually  refuting,  in  this  way,  the  opposite  Con- 
clusion. 

*  'Avrt<Ti)XAo>'t(7//os  and  evaraais  of  Aristotle,  bookii. 

t  The  speeches  indeed  appear  to  be  in  great  part  the  composition 
of  the  historian ;  but  he  professes  to  give  the  substance  of  what 
«vas  either  actually  said,  or  likely  to  be  said,  on  each  occasion  :  and 
the  arguments  urged  in  the  speeches  now  in  question  areundoubt 
edly  such  as  the  respective  speakers  would  be  likely  to  employ 


U4  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  1 

But  the  character  of  Refutation  more  strictly  belongs 
to  the  other  mode  of  proceeding ;  viz.  in  which  a 
reference  is  made,  and  an  answer  given,  to  some 
specific  arguments  in  favour  of  the  opposite  conclusion. 
This  Refutation  may  consist  either  in  the  denial  of  one 
of  the  Premises*  or  an  objection  against  the  conclusive- 
ness of  the  reasoning.  And  here  it  is  to  be  observed 
that  an  objection  is  often  supposed,  from  the  mode  in 
which  it  is  expressed,  to  belong  to  this  last  class,  when 
perhaps  it  does  not,  but  consists  in  the  contradiction  of 
a  Premiss ;  for  it  is  very  common  to  say,  "  I  admit 
your  principle,  but  deny  that  it  leads  to  such  a  conse- 
quence ;r'  "  the  assertion  is  true,  but  it  has  no  force  as 
an  Argument  to  prove  that  conclusion  ;"  this  sounds 
like  an  objection  to  the  Reasoning  itself ;  but  it  will  not 
unfrequently  be  fouud  to  amount  only  to  a  denial  of  the 
suppressed  Premiss  of  an  Enthymeme;  the  assertion 
which  is  admitted  being  only  the  expressed  Premiss, 
whose  "  force  as  an  Argument "  must  of  course  depend 
on  the  other  Premiss,  which  is  understood.!  Thus 
Warburton  admits  that  in  the  Law  of  Moses  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  state  was  not  revealed  ;  but  contends  that 
this,  so  far  from  disproving,  as  the  Deists  pretend,  his 
divine  mission,  does,  on  the  contrary,  establish  it.  But 
the  objection  is  not  to  the  Deist's  Argument  properly 
so  called,  but  to  the  other  Premiss,  which  they  so  hastily 
took  for  granted,  and  which  he  disproves,  viz.  "  that  a 
divinely-commissioned  Lawgiver  would  have  been  sure 
to  reveal  that  doctrine."  The  objection  is  then  only 
properly  said  to  lie  against  the  Reasoning  itself,  when 

*  If  the  premiss  to  be  refuted  be  a  "  Universal,"  (See  Logic,  b.  ii 
ch.  ii.  \2.\  it  will  be  sufficient  to  establish  its  Contradictor}-,  which 
will  be  a  Particular ;  which  will  often  be  done  by  an  argument 
that  will  naturally  be  exhibited  in  the  third  figure,  whose  couclu- 
sions  are  always  Particulars.  Hence,  this  may  be  called  the 
refutatory  Figure. 

t  It  has  been  remarked  to  me  by  an  intelligent  friend,  that  in 
common  discourse  the  word  "  Principle, "  is  usually  employed  to 
designate  the  major  premiss  of  an  Argument,  and  "  Reason," 
the  minor. 


Chap.  III.  §  7.]       OF  CONVICTION.  llfl 

it  is  shown  that,  granting  all  that  is  assumed  on  the 
other  side,  whether  expressed  or  understood,  still  the 
conclusion  contended  for  would  not  follow  from  the 
Premises ;  either  on  account  of  some  ambiguity  in  the 
Middle  Term,  or  some  other  fault  of  that  class. 

This  is  the  proper  place  for  a  treatise  on  Fallacies ; 
but  as  this  has  been  inserted  in  the  "  Elements  of 
Logic,"  I  have  only  to  refer  the  reader  to  it.    (Book  iii.) 

It  may  be  proper  in  this  place  to  remark,  Direct  and 
that  "  Indirect  Reasoning "  is  sometimes  indirect  re 
confounded  with  "  Refutation,"  or  supposed  futation« 
to  be  peculiarly  connected  with  it ;  which  is  not  the  case; 
either  Direct  or  Indirect  Reasoning  being  employed 
indifferently,  for  Refutation,  as  well  as  for  any  other 
purpose.  The  application  of  the  term  "  elenctic," 
(from  iTieyxeiv,  to  refute  or  disprove,)  to  Indirect  Argu- 
ments, has  probably  contributed  to  this  confusion ; 
which,  however,  principally  arises  from  the  very  cir- 
cumstance that  occasioned  such  a  use  of  that  term ;  viz. 
that  in  the  Indirect  method  the  absurdity  or  falsity  of  a 
Proposition  (opposed  to  our  own)  is  proved ;  and  hence 
is  suggested  the  idea  of  an  adversary  maintaining  that 
Proposition,  and  of  the  Refutation  of  that  adversary 
being  necessarily  accomplished  in  this  way.  But  it 
should  be  remembered,  that  Euclid  and  other  mathema- 
ticians, though  they  can  have  no  opponent  to  refute, 
often  employ  the  Indirect  Demonstration ;  and  that,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  the  contradictory  of  an  opponent's 
Premiss  can  be  satisfactorily  proved  in  the  Direct 
method,  the  Refutation  is  sufficient.  It  is  true,  however, 
that  while,  in  Science,  the  Direct  method  is  considered 
preferable,  in  Controvesy,  the  Indirect  is  often  adopted 
by  choice,  as  it  affords  an  opportunity  for  holding  up 
an  opponent  to  scorn  and  ridicule,  by  deducing  some 
very  absurd  conclusion  from  the  principles  he  main- 
tains, or  according  to  the  mode  of  arguing  he  employs. 
Nor  indeed  can  a  fallacy  be  so  clearly  exposed  to  the 
unlearned  reader  in  any  other  way.     For  it  is  no  easy 


J  86  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  I 

matter  to  explain,  to  one  ignorant  of  Logic,  the  grounds 
on  which  you  object  to  an  inconclusive  argument; 
though  he  will  be  able  to  perceive  its  correspondence 
with  another,  brought  forward  to  illustrate  it,  in  which 
an  absurd  conclusion  may  be  introduced,  as  draws 
from  true  premises. 

Proving  It  is  evident  that  either  the  Premiss  of  an 

too  much,  opponent,  or  his  Conclusion,  may  be  dis- 
proved, either  in  the  Direct,  or  in  the  Indirect  method ; 
i.  e.  either  by  proving  the  truth  of  the  Contradictory,  or 
by  showing  that  an  absurd  conclusion  may  fairly  be 
deduced  from  the  proposition  in  question.  When  this 
latter  mode  of  refutation  is  adopted  with  respect  to  the 
Premiss,  the  phrase  by  which  this  procedure  is  usually 
designated,  is,  that  the  "  Argument  proves  too  much ;" 
i.  e.  that  it  proves,  besides  the  conclusion  drawn, 
another,  which  is  manifestly  inadmissible.  E.  G.  The 
Argument  by  which  Dr.  Campbell  labours  to  prove  that 
every  correct  Syllogism  must  be  nugatory,  as  involving 
a  "  petitio  principii,"  proves,  if  admitted  at  all,  more 
than  he  intended  ;  since  it  may  easily  be  shown  to  be 
equally  applicable  to  all  Reasoning  whatever. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  that  an  Indirect  argument  may 
easily  be  altered  in  form  so  as  to  be  stated  in  the  Direct 
mode.  For,  strictly  speaking,  that  is  Indirect  reason- 
ing in  which  we  assume  as  true  the  Proposition  whose 
Contradictory  it  is  our  object  to  prove ;  and  deducing 
regularly  from  it  an  absurd  Conclusion,  infer  thence 
that  the  Premiss  in  question  is  false ;  the  alternative 
proposed  in  all  correct  reasoning-  being,  either  to  admit 
the  Conclusion,  or  to  deny  one  of  the  Premises.  But 
by  adopting  the  form  of  a  Destructive  Conditional,*  the 
same  argument  as  this,  in  substance,  may  be  stated 
directly.  E.  G.  We  may  say,  "  let  it  be  admitted,  that 
no  testimony  can  satisfactorily  establish  such  a  fact  as 
is  not  agreeable  to  our  experience :  thence  :t  will  follow 
that  the  Eastern  Prince  judged  wisely  and  rightly,  in  at 

*  See  Logic,  b.  ii.  c  4. 5)  6. 


Chap   III  §7]       OF  CONVICTION.  117 

once  rejecting,  as  a  manifest  falsehood,  the  account 
given  him  of  the  phenomenon  of  ice  ;  but  he  was  evi- 
dently mistaken  in  so  doing ;  therefore  the  Principle 
assumed  is  unsound."  Now  the  substance  of  this  Ar- 
gument remaining  the  same,  the  form  of  it  may  be  so 
altered  as  to  make  the  Argument  Direct;  viz.  "if  it  he 
true  that  no  testimony,  &c.  that  Eastern  Prince  must 
have  judged  wisely,  &c.  but  he  did  not ;  therefore  that 
principle  is  not  true." 

Universally  indeed  a  Conditional  Proposi-     character 
tion  may  be  regarded  as  an  assertion  of  the    of  condi- 
validity  of  a  certain  Argument ;  the  Antece-    tlon.f}  P™- 

i      j.  v        ..in-  j  *i         positions, 

dent  corresponding  to  the  Premises,  and  the 
Consequent  to  the  Conclusion ;  and  neither  of  them 
being  asserted  as  true,  only,  the  dependence  of  the  one 
on  the  other ;  the  alternative  then  is,  to  acknowledge 
either  the  truth  of  the  Consequent,  as  in  the  Constructive 
Syllogism,  or  (as  in  the  Destructive,)  the  falsity  of  the 
antecedent :  and  the  former  accordingly  corresponds  to 
■  Direct  reasoning,  the  latter  to  Indirect ;  being,  as  has 
been  said,  a  mode  of  stating  it  in  the  Direct  form  ;  as  is 
evident  from  the  examples  adduced. 

The  difference  between  these  two  modes  of  ironical  ef. 
stating  such  an  Argument  is  considerable,  feet  of  inch 
when  there  is  a  long  chain  of  reasoning.  rect  arSu 
For  when  we  employ  the  Categorical  form,  m 
and  assume  as  true  the  Premises  we  design  to  disprove, 
it  is  evident  we  must  be  speaking  ironically,  and  in  the 
character,  assumed  for  the  moment,  of  an  adversary, 
when,  on  the  contrary,  we  use  the  hypothetical  form, 
there  is  no  irony.  Butler's  Analogy  is  an  instance  of 
the  latter  procedure :  he  contends  that  if  such  and  such 
objections  were  admissible  against  Religion,  they  would 
be  applicable  equally  to  the  constitution  and  course  of 
Nature.  Had  he,  on  the  other  hand,  assumed,  for  the 
argument's  sake,  that  such  objections  against  Religion 
are  validv  and  had  thence  proved  the  condition  of  the 
natural  world  to  be  totally  different  from  what  we  se» 


118  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Paut  I 

it  to  be,  his  arguments,  which  woula  have  been  the 
same  in  substance,  would  have  assumed  an  ironical 
form.  This  form  has  been  adopted  by  Burke  in  his 
celebrated  Defence  of  Natural  Society,  by  a  late  noble 
Lord;  in  which,  assuming  the  person  of  Bolingbroke, 
he  proves,  according  to  the  principles  of  that  author, 
that  the  arguments  he  brought  against  ecclesiastical, 
would  equally  lie  against  civil,  institutions  This  is  an 
Argument  from  Analogy,  as  well  as  Bishop  Butler's, 
though  not  relating  to  the  same  point;  Butler's  being  a 
defence  of  the  Doctrines  of  Religion ;  Burke's,  of  ila 
Institutions  and  practical  ef/ects.  A  defence  of  the 
Evidences  of  our  religion,  (the  third  point  against  which 
objections  have  been  urged,)  on  a  similar  plan  with  the 
work  of  Burke  just  mentioned,  and  consequently,  like 
that,  in  an  ironical  form,  I  attempted  a  few  years  ago, 
in  a  pamphlet,  (published  anonymously,  merely  for  the 
preservaiion  of  its  ironical  character,)  whose  object  was 
to  show,  that  objections,  ("  Historic  Doubts,")  similar 
to  those  against  the  Scripture-history,  and  much  more 
plausible,  might  be  urged  against  all  the  received  ac- 
counts of  Napoleon  Buonaparte. 

It  is  in  some  respects  a  recommendation  of  this  latter 
method,  and  in  others  an  objection  to  it,  that  the  soph- 
istry of  an  adversary  will  often  be  exposed  by  it  in  a 
ludicrous  point  of  view:  and  this  even  where  no  such 
effect  is  designed ;  the  very  essence  of  jest  being  its 
mimic  sophiHry.*  This  will  often  give  additional  force 
to  the  Argument,  by  the  vivid  impression  which  ludi- 
crous images  produce  ;f  but  again  it  will  not  unf re- 
cently have  this  disadvantage,  that  weak  men,  per- 
ceiving the  wit,  are  apt  to  conclude  that  nothing  but 
wit  is  designed;  and  lose  sight,  perhaps,  oi  a  solid  and 
convincing  Argument,  which  they  regard  as  no  more 
than  a  good  joke.     Having  been  warned  that  "  ridicule 

•  See  Logic,  Chapter  on  Fallacies,  at  the  conclusion, 
f  Discit  enim  citius,  meminitque  libentius  illud 

Quodquis  deridet,  quam  quod  probut  et  veneratur. 
Hoi .  En.  i  b.  3 


Chap.  III.  §  7.]       OF  CONVICTION.  119 

is  not  the  test  of  truth,"  and  "  that  wisdom  and  wit" 
are  not  the  same  thing,  they  distrust  .every  thing  that 
can  possibly  be  regarded  as  witty ;  not  having  judg- 
ment to  perceive  the  combination,  when  it  occurs,  of 
wit  with  sound  reasoning.  The  ivy- wreath  completely 
conceals  from  their  view  the  point  cf  the  Thyrsus. 

And  moreover  if  such  a  mode  of  Argument  Danger 
be  employed  on  serious  subjects,  the  "  weak  of  «'ony- 
brethren"  are  sometimes  scandalized  by  what  appears 
to  them  a  profanation  ;  not  having  discernment  to  per- 
ceive when  it  is  that  the  ridicule  does,  and  when  it  does 
not,  affect  the  solemn  subject  itself.  But  for  the  respect 
paid  to  Holy  Writ,  the  taunt  of  Elijah  against  the  pro- 
phets of  Baal  would  probably  appear  to  such  persons 
irreverent.  And  the  caution  now  implied  will  appear 
the  more  important,  when  it  is  considered  how  large  a 
majority  they  are,  who,  in  this  point,  come  under  the 
description  of  "  weak  brethren."  He  that  can  laugh  at 
what  is  ludicrous,  and  at  the  same  time  preserve  a  clear 
discernment  of  sound  and  unsound  Reasoning,  is  no  or- 
dinary man.  There  seem  indeed  to  be  some  persons  so 
constituted  as  to  be  incapable  of  comprehending  the 
plainest  irony ;  though  they  have  not  in  other  points 
any  corresponding  weakness  of  intellect.  The  humo- 
rous satirical  pamphlet,  (attributed  to  an  eminent  litera- 
ry character,)  entitled  "  Advice  to  a  Reviewer,"  1  have 
known  persons  read  without  perceiving  that  it  was 
ironical.  And  the  same,  with  the  "  Historic  Doubts" 
lately  referred  to. 

There  is  also  this  danger  in  the  use  of  irony ;  that 
sometimes  when  titles,  in  themselves  favourable,  arc 
applied  (or  their  application  retained)  to  any  set  of  men, 
in  bitter  scorn,  they  will  then  sometimes  be  enabled  to 
appropriate  such  titles  in  a  serious  sense ;  the  ironical 
force  gradually  evaporating,  f  mean,  such  titles  as 
"Orthodox,"  " Evangelical,"  "  Saints,"  "Reformers," 
"Liberals,"  "Political-Economists,"  "  Rational,"  &c. 
The  advantage  thus  given  nay  be  illustrated  by  the 


a20  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC         [1    f.i  * 

story  of  the  cocoa-nuts  in  Sinbad  the  Sailor's  fi/tfc 
voyage. 

It  may  be  observed  generally,  that  too  much  stress  is 
often  laid,  especially  by  unpractised  reasoners,  on  Refu- 
tation ;  (in  the  strictest  and  narrowest  sense,  i.  e.  ol 
Objections  to  the  Premises,  or  to  the  Reasoning,)  I  mean 
that  they  are  apt  both  to  expect  a  Refutation  where 
none  can  fairly  be  expected,  and  to  attribute  to  it,  when 
satisfactorily  made  out,  more  than  it  really  accomplishes. 

TJnanswer-  ^0I  ^1St'  n0t  0T^Y  sPecious>  Dut  reai  and 

able  argu"  solid  arguments,  such  as  it  would  be  diffi- 
ments  may  cult,  or  impossible  to  refute,  may  be  urged 
both  £des.  against  a  Proposition  which  is  nevertheless 
true,  and  may  be  satisfactorily  established 
by  a  preponderance  of  probability.*  It  is  in  strictly 
scientific  Reasoning  alone  that  all  the  arguments  which 
lead  to  a  false  Conclusion  must  be  fallacious :  in  what 
is  called  moral  or  probable  Reasoning,  there  may  be 
sound  arguments  and  valid  objections  on  both  sides.f 
E.  G.  it  may  be  shown  that  each  of  two  contending 
parties  has  some  reason  to  hope  for  success  ;  and  this, 
by  irrefragable  arguments  on  both  sides ;  leading  to 
conclusions  which  are  not  (strictly  speaking)  contra- 
dictory to  each  other ;  for  though  only  one  party  can 
obtain  the  victory,  it  may  be  true  that  each  has  some 
reason  to  expect  it.  The  real  question  in  such  cases  is 
which  event  is  the  more  probable  ; — on  which  side  the 
Evidence  preponderates.  Now  it  often  happens  that 
the  inexperienced  reasoner,  thinking  it  necessary  that 
every  objection  should  be  satisfactorily  answered,  will 
have  his  attention  drawn  off  from  the  arguments  of  the 
opposite  side,  and  will  be  occupied  perhaps  in  making 
a  weak  defence,  while  victory  was  in  his  hands.  The 
objection  perhaps  may  be  unanswerable,  and  yet  may 

*  See  above,  ch.  ii.  §  4.  and  also  Logic,  Part  iii.  §  17. 

t  Bacon,  in  his  rhetorical  commonplaces — heads  of  argument* 
pro  and  contra,  on  several  questions — has  some  admirable  illustra- 
tions of  what  has  been  here  remarked.  I  have  accordingly  (in 
Appendix  A.)  inserted  some  selections  from  them 


Chap.  III.  §  7.]        OF  CONVICTION.  121 

eafely  be  allowed,  if  it  can  be  shown  that  more  and 
weightier  objections  lie  against  every  other  supposition. 
Phis  is  a  most  important  caution  for  those  who  are 
studying  the  Evidences  of  Religion.  Let  the  opposei 
of  them  be  called  on,  instead  of  confining  himself  to 
detached  cavils,  and  saying,  "  how  do  you  answer 
this?"  and  "  how  do  you  explain  that  ?"  to  frame  some 
consistent  hypothesis  to  account  for  the  introduction  of 
Christianity  by  human  means ;  and  then  to  consider 
whether  there  are  more  or  fewer  difficulties  in  his  hy- 
pothesis than  in  the  other. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  may  often  meet  sophistical 
with  a  sophistical  refutation  of  objections,  Refutation, 
consisting  in  counter-objections  urged  against  some 
thing  else  which  is  taken  for  granted  to  be,  though  it 
is  not,  the  only  alternative.  E.  G.  Objections  against 
an  unlimited  Monarchy  may  be  met  by  a  glowing  de- 
scription of  the  horrors  of  the  mob-government  of  the 
Athenian  and  Roman  Republics.  If  an  exclusive  atten- 
tion to  mathematical  pursuits  be  objected  to,  it  may  be 
answered  by  deprecating  the  exclusion  of  such  studies. 
It  is  thus  that  a  man  commonly  replies  to  the  censure 
passed  on  any  vice  he  is  addicted  to,  by  representing 
some  other  vice  as  worse ;  c.  g.  if  he  iff  blamed  fcr 
being  a  sot,  he  dilales  on  the  greater  enormity  of  being 
a  thief ;  as  if  there  were  any  need  he  should  be  either. 
And  it  is  in  this  way  alone  that  the  advocates  of  Trans- 
portation have  usually  defended  it :  describing  some 
very  ill-managed  penitentiary-system,  and  assuming  as 
self-evident  and  admitted  that  this  must  be  the  only 
possible  substitute  for  Penal-Colonies.*  This  fallacy 
may  be  stated  logically, as  a  Disjunctive  Hypothetical 
with  the  Major  false. 

Secondly,  the  force  of  a  Refutation  is  often  Over-esti- 

over-rated:  an  argument  which  is  satisfac-  mate  of  tQ« 
..  ,     o  lorce  01  re- 

tonly  answered  ought  merely  to  gojor  no-  futation. 

See  Letter  to  Earl  Grey  on  the  subject — Report  of  Committee 
Mid  "  Substance  of  a  Speech,"  &c. 
10 


122  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  I 

thing :  it  is  possible  that  the  conclusion  drawn 
may  nevertheless  be  true  :  yet  men  are  apt  to  take 
for  granted  that  the  conclusion  itself  is  disproved, 
when  the  arguments  brought  forward  to  establish  it 
have  been  satisfactorily  refuted ;  assuming,  when  pt  > 
haps  there  is  no  ground  for  the  assumption,  that  these 
are  all  the  arguments  that  could  be  urged.*  This  maybe 
considered  as  the  fallacy  of  denying  the  Consequent  of 
a  Conditional  Proposition,  from  the  Antecedent  having 
been  denied :  "  if  such  and  such  an  Argument  be  ad- 
mitted, the  Assertion  in  question  is  true  ;  but  that  Argu- 
ment is  inadmissible  ;  therefore  the  Assertion  is  not  true." 
Hence  the  injury  done  to  any  cause  by  a  weak  advocate ; 


*  Another  form  of  ignoratio  elenchi.  (irrelevant  conclusion,) 
Which  is  rather  the  more  serviceable  on  the  side  of  the  respondent, 
is,  to  prove  or  disprove  some  part  of  that  which  is  required,  ami 
dwell  on  that,  suppressing  all  the  rest. 

"  Thus,  if  a  University  is  charged  with  cultivating  only  the  mere 
elements  of  Mathematics,  and  in  reply  a  list  of  the  books  studied 
there  is  produced,  should  even  any  one  of  those  books  be  not  ele- 
mentary, the  charge  is  in  fairness  refuted  ;  but  the  sophist  may  then 
earnestly  contend  that  some  of  those  books  are  elementary  ;  and 
thus  keep  out  of  sight  the  real  question,  viz.  whether  they  are  all 
so.  This  is  the  great  art  of  the  answerer  of  a  book  :  suppose  the 
main  positions  in  any  work  to  be  irrefragable,  it  will  be  strange  if 
some  illustration  of  them,  or  some  subordinate  part,  in  short,  will 
not  admit  of  a  plausible  objection  ;  the  opponent  then  joins  issue  on 
ono  of  these  incidental  questions,  and  comes  forward  with  '  a  Re- 
ply '  to  such  and  such  a  work." — Logic,  pp.  199,  200.  §  18.  Another 
expedient  which  answerers  sometimes  resort  to,  and  which  is  less 
likely  to  remain  permanently  undetected,  is  to  garble  a  book  ;  ex- 
hibiting statements  without  their  explanations— conclusions  with- 
out their  proofs — and  passages  brought  together  out  of  their  origin 
al  order  ; — so  as  to  produce  an  appearance  of  falsehood,  confusion, 
or  inconclusiveness.  The  last  and  boldest  step  is  for  the  "  answer- 
er," to  make  some  false  statement  or  absurd  remark,  and  then  fa- 
ther it  upon  the  author.  And  even  this  artifice  will  sometimes  sue 
ceed  for  a  time,  because  many  persons  do  not  suspect  that  any  one 
would  venture  upon  it.  Again,  it  is  no  uncommon  manoeuvre  of  a 
dexterous  sophist  when  there  is  some  argument,  statement,  scheme 
&c.  which  he  cannot  directly  defeat,  to  assent  with  seeming  cordi 
ality,  but  with  some  exception,  addition,  or  qualification,  (as  e.  g 
an  additional  clause  in  an  Act,)  which,  though  seemingly  unimpor 
tant,  shall  entirely  nullify  all  the  rest.  This  has  been  humorously 
compared  to  the  trick  of  the  pilgrim  in  the  well-known  tale,  who 
'  took  the  liberty  to  boil  his  pease."  i 


Chap.  III.  §  7.]       OF  CONVICTION.  128 

the  cause  itself  appearing  to  the  vulgar  to  be  over- 
thrown, when  the  Arguments  brought  forward  are 
answered. 

"  Hence  the  danger  of  ever  advancing  more  than  can 
be  well  maintained ;  since  the  refutation  of  that  will 
often  quash  the  whole  :  a  guilty  person  may  often  es- 
cape by  having  too  much  laid  to  his  charge ;  so  he  may 
also  by  having  too  much  evidence  against  him,  i.  e. 
some  that  is  not  in  itself  satisfactory :  thus  a  prisonei 
may  sometimes  obtain  acquittal  by  showing  that  one  of 
the  witnesses  against  him  is  an  infamous  informer  and 
spy ;  though  perhaps  if  that  part  of  the  evidence  had 
been  omitted,  the  rest  would  have  been  sufficient  for 
conviction."* 

The  maxim  here  laid  down,  however,  applies  only  to 
those  causes  in  which,  (waiving  the  consideration  of 
honesty,)  first,  it  is  wished  to  produce  not  merely  a 
temporary,  but  a  lasting  impression,  and  that,  on  read- 
ers or  hearers  of  some  judgment;  and  secondly,  where 
there  really  are  some  weighty  arguments  to  be  urged. 
When  no  charge  e.'  g.  can  really  be  substantiated,  and 
yet  it  is  desired  to  produce  some  present  effect  on  the 
unthinking,  there  may  be  room  for  the  application  of 
the  proverb,  "  Slander  stoutly,  and  something  will 
stick ;"  the  vulgar  are  apt  to  conclude,  that  where  a  great 
deal  is  said,  something  must  be  true ;  and  many  are  fond 
of  that  lazy  contrivance  for  saving  the  trouble  of  think- 
ing— "splitting  the  difference;"  imagining  that  they 
show  a  laudable  caution  in  believing  only  a  part  of 
what  is  said.  And  thus  a  malignant  sophist  may  gain 
Buch  a  temporary  advantage  by  the  multiplicity  of  his 
attacks,  as  the  rabble  of  combatants  described  by  Homer 
sometimes  did  by  their  showers  of  javelins,  which  en- 
cumbered and  weighed  down  the  shield  of  one  of  his 
heroes,  though  they  could  not  penetrate  it. 

On  the  above  principle — that  a  weak  argument  is 
•^sitively  hurtfuJ,  is  founded  a  most,  important  maxim, 

»  See  Logic,  p    2Q0 


124  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  I 

Objections  that  it  is  not  only  the  fairest,  but  also  the 
stated1  \n  wisest  Plan>  to  state  Objections  in  tJteir  full 
their  full  force ,  at  least,  wherever  there  does  exist 
force.  a  satisfactory  answer  to  them;  otherwise, 

those  who  hear  them  stated  more  strongly  than  by  the 
uncandid  advocate  who  had  undertaken  to  repel  them, 
will  naturally  enough  conclude  that  they  are  unan- 
swerable. It  is  but  a  momentary  and  ineffective 
triumph  that  can  be  obtained  by  manoeuvres  like  those 
of  Turnus's  charioteer,  who  furiously  chased  the  feeble 
stragglers  of  the  army,  and  evaded  the  main  front  of 
the  battle. 

And  when  the  objections  urged  are  not  only  unan- 
swerable, but  (what  is  more)  decisive — when  some 
argument  that  has  been  adduced,  or  some  portion  of  a 
system,  &c.  is  perceived  to  be  really  unsound,  it  is  the 
wisest  way  fairly  and  fully  to  confess  this;  and  abandon 
it  altogether.  There  are  many  who  seem  to  make  it  a 
point  of  honour  never  to  yield  a  single  point — never  to 
retract :  or  (if  this  be  found  unavoidable)  "  to  back  out" 
— as  the  phrase  is — of  an  untenable  position,  so  as  to 
display  their  reluctance  to  make  any  concession  ;  as  if 
their  credit  was  staked  on  preserving  unbroken  the 
talisman  of  professed  infallibility.  But  ihere  is  little 
wisdom  (the  question  of  honesty  is  out  of  the  province 
of  this  treatise)  in  such  a  procedure;  which  in  fact  is 
very  liable  to  cast  a  suspicion  on  that  which  is  really 
sound,  when  it  appears  that  the  advocate  is  ashamed  to 
abandon  what  is  unsound.  And  such  an  honest  avowal 
as  1  have  been  recommending,  though  it  may  raise  at 
first  a  feeble  and  brief  shout  of  exultation,  will  soon  be 
followed  by  a  general  and  increasing  murmur  of  appro- 
bation. Uncandid  as  the  world  often  is,  it  seldom  fails 
to  applaud  the  magnanimity  of  confessing  a  defect  or  a 
mistake,  and  to  reward  it  with  an  increase  of  conlidence. 
Indeed  this  increased  confidence  is  often  rashly  be- 
stowed, by  a  kind  of  over-generosity  in  the  public; 
which  is  apt  too  hastily  to  consider  the  confession  of 


Shap.  III.  §  8.]       OF  CONVICTION.  125 

an  error  as  a  proof  of  universal  sincerity.  Some  of  the 
most  skilful  sophists  accordingly  avail  themselves  of 
this;  and  gain  credence  for  much  that  is  false,  by 
acknowledging  with  an  air  of  frankness  some  one 
mistake;  which,  like  a  tub  thrown  to  the  whale,  they 
sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  persuading  us  that  they  have 
committed  only  one  error.  I  fear  it  can  hardly  be 
affirmed  as  yet,  that  "  this  trick  has  been  so  long  used 
m  controversy,  as  to  be  almost  worn  out."* 

§  8.  It  is  important  to  observe,  that  too  Too  earnest 
earnest  and  elaborate  a  refutation  of  argu-  refutation, 
ments  which  are  really  insignificant,  or  which  their 
opponent  wishes  to  represent  as  such,  will  frequently 
have  the  effect  of  giving  them  importance.  Whatever 
is  slightly  noticed,  and  afterwards  passed  by  with 
contempt,  many  readers  and  hearers  will  very  often 
conclude  (sometimes  for  no  other  reason)  to  be  really 
contemptible.  But  if  they  are  assured  of  this  again 
and  again  with  great  earnestness,  they  often  begin  to 
doubt  it.  They  see  the  respondent  plying  artillery  and 
musketry — bringing  up  horse  and  foot  to  the  charge ; 
and  conceive  that  what  is  so  vehemently  assailed  must 
possess  great  strength.  One  of  his  refutations  might 
perhaps  have  left  them  perfectly  convinced  ;  all  of 
them  together,  leave  them  in  doubt. 

But  it  is  not  to  Refutation  alone  that  this  Danger  of 
principle  will  apply.  In  other  cases  also  it  writing  too 
may  happen  (paradoxical  as  it  is  at  first  forcibl>r- 
sight)  that  it  shall  bp  possible,  and  dangerous,  to  write 
too  forcibly.  Such  a  caution  may  remind  some  readers 
of  the  personage  in  the  fairy-tale,  whose  swiftness  was 
so  prodigious,  that  he  was  obliged  to  tie  his  legs,  lest 
he  shoula  overrun,  and  thus  miss,  the  hares  he  was 
pursuing.  But  on  consideration  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  caution  is  not  unreasonable.  When  indeed  the 
point  maintained  is  one  which  most  persons  admit  or 
are  disposed  to  admit,  but  which  they  are  prone  to  loss 

*  See  Defence  of  Oxford   Second  Reply,  p.  SS, 


i26  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  I. 

sight  of,  or  to  underrate  in  respect  of  its  importance,  01 
not  to  dwell  on  with  an  attention  sufficiently  practical, 
that  is  just  the  occasion  which  calls  on  us  to  put  forth 
all  our  efforts  in  setting  it  forth  in  the  most  forcible 
manner  possible.  Yet  even  here,  it  is  often  necessary 
to  caution  the  hearers  against  imagining  that  a  point  is 
difficult  to  establish,  because  its  importance  leads  us  to 
dwell  very  much  on  it.  Some  e.  g.  are  apt  to  suppose, 
from  the  copious  and  elaborate  arguments  which  have 
been  urged  in  defence  of  the  authenticity  of  the  Chris- 
tian Scriptures,  that  these  are  books  whose  authenticity 
is  harder  to  be  established  than  that  of  other  supposed- 
ancient  works  ;*  whereas  the  fact  is,  in  the  very  highest 
degree,  the  reverse.  But  the  importance,  and  the 
difficulty,  of  proving  any  point,  are  very  apt  to  be 
confounded  together,  though  easily  distinguishable. 
We  bar  the  doors  carefully,  not  merely  when  we 
expect  an  unusually  formidable  attack,  but  when  we 
have  an  unusual  treasure  in  the  house. 

But  when  any  principle  is  to  be  established,  which, 
though  in  itself  capable  of  being  made  evident  to  the 
humblest  capacity,  yet  has  been  long  and  generally 
overlooked,  and  to  which  established  prejudices  are 
violently  opposed,  it  will  sometimes  happen  that  to  set 
forth  the  absurdity  of  such  prejudices  in  the  strongest 
point  of  view,  (though  in  language  perfectly  decent  and 
temperate,)  and  to  demonstrate  the  conclusion,  over  and 
over,  so  clearly  and  forcibly  that  it  shall  seem  the  most 
palpable  folly  or  dishonesty  to  deny  it,  will,  with  some 
minds,  have  an  opposite  tendency  to  the  one  desired 
Some  perhaps,  conscious  of  having  been  the  slaves  or 
the  supporters  of  such  prejudices  as  are  thus  held  up  to 
contempt,  (not  indeed  by  disdainful  language,  but  simply 
by  being  placed  in  a  very  clear  light,)  and  of  having 

*  See  Taylor's  History  of  the  Transmission  of  Ancient  Books  ;  a 
very  interesting  and  valuable  work  ;  and  also  the  Review  of  it— 
which  is  still  more  so— in  the  London  Review,  No.  2,  1829 
(Saunder?  and  Otley.) 


Chap.  III.  §  8.]       OF  CONVICTION.  127 

overlooked  truths  which,  when  thus  clearly  explained 
and  proved,  appear  perfectly  evident  even  to  a  child, 
will  consequently  be  stung  by  a  feeling  of  shame  pass- 
ing off  into  resentment,  which  stops  their  ears  against 
argument.  They  could  have  borne  perhaps  to  change 
their  opinion ;  but  not,  .so  to  change  it  as  to  tax  their  for- 
mer opinion  with  the  grossest  folly.  They  would  be 
so  sorry  to  think  they  had  been  blinded  to  such  an 
excess,  and  are  so  angry  with  him  who  is  endeavouring 
to  persuade  them  to  think  so,  that  these  feelings  deter- 
mine them  not  to  think  it.  They  try  (and  it  is  an  at- 
tempt which  few  persons  ever  make  in  vain)  to  shut 
their  eyes  against  an  humiliating  conviction :  and  thus, 
the  very  triumphant  force  of  the  reasoning  adduced, 
serves  to  Harden  them  against  admitting  the  conclusion  . 
much  as  one  may  conceive  Roman  soldiers  desperately 
holding  out  an  untenable  fortress  to  the  last  extremity, 
from  apprehension  of  being  made  to  pass  under  the 
yoke  by  the  victors,  should  they  surrender. 

Others  again,  perhaps  comparatively  strangers  to  the 
question,  and  not  prejudiced,  or  not  strongly  prejudiced, 
against  your  conclusion,  but  ready  to  admit  it  if  sup- 
ported by  sufficient  arguments,  will  sometimes,  if  your 
arguments  are  very  much  beyond  what  is  sufficient,  have 
their  suspicions  roused  by  this  very  circumstance. 
"Can  it  be  possible,"  they  will  say,  "that  a  conclusion 
so  very  obvious  as  this  is  made  to  appear,  should  not 
have  been  admitted  long  ago  ?  Is  it  conceivable  that 
such  and  such  eminent  philosophers,  divines,  statesmen, 
&c.  should  have  been  all  their  lives  under  delusions  so 
gross  ?"  Hence  they  are  apt  to  infer,  either  that  the 
author  has  mistaken  the  opinions  of  those  he  imagines 
opposed  to  him,  or  else,  that  there  is  some  subtle  fallacy 
in  his  arguments. 

The  former  of  these  suspicions  is  a  matter  of  little 

or  no  consequence,  except  as  far  as  regards  the  author's 

credit  for  acuteness.*     As  far  as  the  legitimate  province 

*  "  The  more  simple,  clear,  and  obvious  any  principle  is  rendered, 


128  ELEMENTS  GF  RHETORIC.         [Part  1 

of  the  Orator  is  concerned,  he  may  be  satisfied  with 
establishing  a  just  principle,  and  leaving  men  to  imagine 
if  they  will,  that  nobody  had  ever  doubted  it.  But  the 
other  suspicion  may  lead  to  very  serious  evil ;  and  it  is 
not  by  any  means  unlikely  to  occur.  Many  a  one  will 
be  convinced  that  there  must  be  some  flaw  in  a  Course 
of  argument  in  which  he  is  conscious,  and  perhaps 
ready  to  confess,  that  he  cannot  point  out  any  ;  merely 
on  the  ground,  that  if  there  is  none,  but  the  whole  is 
perfectly  sound  and  valid,  he  cannot  conceive  that  it 
should  have  been  overlooked,  (so  obvious  as  it  is  made 
to  appear,)  for  perhaps  ages  together,  by  able  men  who 
had  devoted  their  thoughts  to  the  subject.  That  of  so 
many  thousands  of  physicians  wTho  for  ages  hail  been 
in  the  daily  habit  of  feeling  the  pulse,  no  one  before 
Harvey  should  have  suspected  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  was  probably  a  reason  with  many  for  denying 
that  discovery.  And  a  man's  total  inability,  as  1  have 
said,  to  point  out  any  fallacy,  will  by  no  means  remove 
his  conviction  or  suspicion  that  there  must  be  somefii 
the  conclusion  be  one,  which,  for  the  reason  just  men- 
tioned, seems  to  him  inconceivable.  There  are  many 
persons  unable  to  find  out  the  flaw  in  the  argument 
e.  g.  by  which  it  is  pretended  to  be  demonstrated  that 
Achilles  could  not  overtake  the  tortoise :  but  some  flaw 
every  one  is  sure  there  must  be,  from  his  full  conviction 
that  Achilles  could  overtake  the  tortoise. 

In  this  way  it  is  very  possible  that  our  reasoning  may 
be  "  dark  with  excess  of  light." 

Of  course  it  is  not  meant  that  a  Refutation  should 

the  more  likely  is  its  exposition  to  elicit  those  common  remarks, 
•  of  course  !  of  course  !  no  one  could  ever  doubt  that  ;  this  is  all 
very  true,  but  there  is  nothing  new  brought  to  light ;  nothing  that 
was  not  familiar  to  every  one ;'  '  there  needs  no  ghost  to  tell  us 
that.'  I  am  convinced  that  a  verbose,  mystical,  and  pnrtially  ob- 
scure way  of  writing,  on  such  a  subject,  is  the  most  likely  to  catch 
the  attention  of  the  multitude.  The  generality  verify  the  observa- 
tion of  Tacitus,  '  omneignotum  pro  mirifico  :'  and  when  any  thing 
is  made  very  plain  to  them,  are  apt  to  fancy  that  they  knew  it 
already."— Preface  to  Elements  of  Losi? 


Chap.  III.  <*j  8.]      OF  CONVICTION.  129 

ever  appear  (when  that  can  be  avoided)  insufficient; 
— that  a  conclusion  should  be  left  doubtful  which  we 
are  able,  to  establish  fully.  But  in  combating  deep, 
rooted  prejudices,  and  maintaining  unpopular  and  para- 
doxical truths,  the  point  to  be  aimed  at  should  be,  to 
adduce  what  is  sufficient,  and  not  much  more  than  is 
sufficient,  to  prove  your  conclusion.  If  (in  such  a  case) 
you  can  but  satisfy  men  that  your  opinion  is  decidedly 
more  probable  than  the  opposite,  you  will  have  carried 
your  point  more  effectually,  than  if  you  go  on,  much 
beyond  this,  to  demonstrate,  by  a  multitude  of  the  most 
forcible  arguments,  the  extreme  absurdity  of  thinking 
differently,  till  you  have  affronted  the  self-esteem  of 
some,  and  awakened  the  distrust  of  others.*  Labourers 
who  are  employed  in  driving  wedges  into  a  block  of 
wood,  are  careful  to  use  blows  of  no  greater  force  than 
is  just  sufficient.  If  they  strike  too  hard,  the  elasticity 
of  the  wood  will  throw  out  the  wedge. 

There  is  in  some  cases  another  danger  also  Danger  of 
to  be  apprehended  from  the  employment  of  using  topics 
a  great  number  and  variety  of  arguments ;  not  dir.e<jtly 
(whether    for    refutation,    or    otherwise;)  to  the  per- 
namely,  that  some  of  them,  though  really  sons  ad- 
unanswerable,  may  be  drawn  from  topics  of  dresse  ■ 
which  the  unlearned  reader  or  hearer  is  not,  by  his  own 
knowledge,  a  competent  judge ;  and  these  a  crafty  op- 
ponent will  immediately  assail,  keeping  all  the  rest  out 
of  sight ;   knowing   that  he  is  thus  transferring  the 
contest  to  another  rield,  in  which  the  result  is  sure  to 
be,  practically,  a  drawn  battle. 

Suppose  for  instance  you  could  maintain  or  oppose 
some  doctrine  or  practice,  by  arguments  drawn  from 
Scripture,  and  also  from  the  most  eminent  of  the 
Fathers,  and  from  a  host  of  the  ablest  commentators  and 
biblical  Critics :  in  a  work  designed  for  the  learned  few, 

*  A  French  writer,  M.  Say,  relates  a  story  of  some  one  who, 
for  a  wager,  s*ood  a  whole  day  on  one  of  the  bridges  in  Paris, 
offering  to  sell  a  five-franc-piece.  for  one  franc,  and  (naturally) 
not  finding  a  purchaser. 


130  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC      [Part  I. 

it  might  be  well  to  employ  all  these :  but  in  a  popular 
work,  designed  for  the  uneducated — and  nine- tenths  of 
what  are  called  the  educated-classes,  it  would  be  better 
to  omit  all  except  those  drawn  from  plain  undisputed 
passages  of  the  Common  Version  of  the  Bible.  Else, 
however  decisively  your  conclusion  might  be  estab- 
lished, in  the  eyes  of  competent  judges,  you  might 
expect  to  be  met  "by  an  artful  opponent  who  would  join 
issue  on  that  portion  of  the  arguments  (keeping  the 
rest  out  of  sight)  which  turned  most  on  matters  of  mul. 
tifarious  and  deep  research :  boldly  denying  your 
citations,  or  alleging  misrepresentation  of  the  authors 
appealed  to,  or  asserting  that  you  had  omitted  the 
weightiest  authorities,  and  that  these  were  on  the  op- 
posite side;  &c.  Who,  of  the  unlearned,  could  tell 
which  was  in  the  right  ?  You  might  reply,  and  fully 
disprove  all  that  had  been  urged  ;  but  you  might  be  met 
by  fresh  and  fresh  assertions — fresh  denials — fresh 
appeals  to  authorities,  real  or  feigned ;  and  so  the  con- 
test might  be  kept  up  for  ever.  The  mass  of  the  read- 
ers, meantime,  would  be  in  the  condition  of  a  blind 
man  who  should  be  a  bystander  at  a  battle,  and  could 
not  judge  which  party  was  prevailing,  except  from  the 
reports  of  those  who  stood  near  him. 

It  is  generally  the  wisest  course  therefore,  not  only  to 
employ  such  arguments  as  are  directly  accessible  to  the 
persons  addressed,  but  to  confine  one-self  to  these,  lest 
the  attention  should  be  drawn  off  from  them., 
Difficulty  On  the  whole,  the  arguments  which  it  re- 

of  refuting  quires  the  greatest  nicety  of  art  to  refute  ef 
cessiveiyX"  fectually,  (I  mean,  for  one  who  has  truth  on 
weak.  his  side,)  are  those  which  are  so  very  weak 

and  silly  that  it  is  difficult  to  make  their  absurdity  more 
palpable  than  it  is  already ;  at  least  without  a  risk  ol 
committing  the  error  formerly  noticed.  The  task  re- 
minds one  of  the  well-known  difficult  feat  of  cutting 
through  a  cushion  with  a  sword.  And  what  augments 
the  perplexity,  is,  that  such  arguments  are  usually 


Chap.  IV.  §  1.]       OF  CONVICTION.  131 

brought  forward  by  those  who,  we  feel  sure,  are  not 
themselves  convinced  by  them,  but  are  ashamed  to  avow 
their  real  reasons.  So  that  in  such  a  case  we  know  that 
the  refutation  of  these  pretexts  will  not  go  one  step  to- 
wards convincing  those  who  urge  them ;  any  more  than 
the  justifications  of  the  lamb  in  the  fable  against  the 
wolf's  charges. 

§  9.    The   arguments  which   should  be    The  most 
placed   first  in   order  are,  ceteris  paribus,     obvious 
the  most  obvious,  and  such  as  naturally  first    have  pre"  * 
OCCUr.  cedence. 

This  is  evidently  the  natural  order  ;  and  the  adherence 
to  it  gives  an  easy,  natural  air  to  the  Composition.  It 
is  seldom,  therefore,  worth  while  to  depart  from  it  for 
the  sake  of  beginning  with  the  most  powerful  argu- 
ments, (when  they  happen  not  to  be  also  the  most  ob- 
vious,) or  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  sake  of  reserving 
these  to  the  last,  and  beginning  with  the  weaker ;  or 
again,  of  imitating,  as  some  recommend,  Nestor's  plan 
of  drawing  up  troops,  placing  the  best  first  and  last,  and 
the  weakest  in  the  middle.  It  will  be  advisable  how- 
ever (and  by  this  means  you  may  secure  this  last  ad- 
vantage) when  the  strongest  arguments  naturally  oc- 
cupy the  foremost  place,  to  recapitulate  in  a  reverse 
order ;  which  will  destroy  the  appearance  of  anti-cli- 
max, and  is  also  in  itself  the  most  easy  and  natural  mode 
of  recapitulation.  Let,  e-  g.  the  arguments 
be  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  &c.  each  less  weighty  than  Reverse 
the  preceding  ;  then  in  recapitulating,  pro-  [ation?11 
ceed  from  E  to  D,  C,  B,  concluding  with  A. 


Chap.  IV. — Of  Introductions. 

§  1.  A  Proeme,  Exordium,  or  Introduction,  is,  as 
Aristotle  has  justly  remarked,  not  to  be  accounted  one 
of  the  essential  parts  of  a  Composition,  since  it  is  not  in 
every  case  necessary.     In  most,  however,  except  such 


132  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  I 

as  are  extremely  short,  it  is  found  advisable  to  premise 
something  before  we  enter  on  the  main  argument,  to 
avoid  an  appearance  of  abruptness,  and  to  facilitate,  in 
some  way  or  other,  the  object  proposed.  In  larger  works 
this  assumes  the  appellation  of  Preface  or  Advertise- 
ment; and  not  unfrequently  two  are  employed,  one  un- 
der the  name  of  Preface,  and  another,  more  closely  con- 
nected  with  the  main  work,  under  that  of  Introduction. 

The  rules  which  have  been  laid  down  already  will 
apply  equally  to  that  preliminary  course  of  argument  of 
which  Introductions  often  consist. 

The  writers  before  Aristotle  are  censured  by  him  foi 
inaccuracy,  in  placing  under  the  head  of  Introductions, 
as  properly  belonging  to  them,  many  things  which  are 
not  more  appropriate  in  the  beginning  than  elsewhere  ; 
as,  e.  g.  the  contrivances  for  exciting  the  hearers'  at- 
tention; which,  as  he  observes,  is  an  improper  arrange- 
ment ;  since,  though  such  an  Introduction  may  some- 
times be  required,  it  is,  generally  speaking,  any  where 
else  rather  th« 
likely  to  flag. 

introduc-  The  ru^e  *a^  down  by  Cicero,  {Be  Orat.) 

tions  not  not  to  compose  the  Introduction  first,  but  to 
to  b6dCfimt  cons^er  first  the  main  argument,  and  let  that 
pose  rs  .  SUo-gest  the  Exordium,  is  just  and  valuable ; 
.for  otherwise,  as  he  observes,  seldom  any  thing  will 
suggest  itself  but  vague  generalities;  "common"  topics, 
as  he  calls  them,  i.  e.  what  would  equally  well  suit 
several  different  compositions;  whereas,  the  Introduc- 
tion, which  is  composed  last,  will  naturally  spring  out 
of  the  main  subject,  and  appear  appropriate  to  it. 
T  ,     ,  §   2.    1st.    One   of  the.   objects   most   fre- 

Jntroduc-  *     .  .    .  T        J  , 

tioninqui-  quently  proposed  in  an  Introduction,  is,  to 
sitive.  show  that  the  subject  in  a  uestion  is  important, 
curious,  or  otherwise  interesting,  and  worthy  of  atten- 
tion.  This  may  be  called  an  "  Introduction  inquisitive."* 

»  See  Tacitus  in  the  opening  of  his  "  History  ;"  and  the  beginning 
of  Paley's  Natural  Theology. 


Chap.  IV.  §  2.]       OF  CONVICTION.  133 

2dly.  It  will  frequently  happen  also,  when  introduce 
the  point  to  be  proved  or  explained  is  one  tion  para, 
which  may  be  very  fully  established,  or  on  oxlca 
which  there  is  little  or  no  doubt,  that  it  may  neverthe- 
less be  strange,  and  different  from  what  might  have 
been  expected  ;  in  which  case  it  will  often  have  a  good 
effect  in  rousing  the  attention,  to  set  forth  as  strongly 
as  possible  this  paradoxical  character,  and  dwell  on  the 
seeming  improbability  of  that  which  must,  after  all,  be 
admitted.  This  may  be  called  an  "  Introduction  para- 
doxical." For  instance : — "  If  you  should  see  a  flock 
of  pigeons  in  a  field  of  corn :  and  if  (instead  of  each 
picking  where  and  what  it  liked,  taking  just  as  much 
as  it  wanted,  and  no  more)  you  should  see  ninety-nine 
of  them  gathering  all  they  got  into  a  heap  ;  reserving 
nothing  for  themselves,  but  the  chafT  and  the  refuse ; 
keeping  this  heap  for  one,  and  that  the  weakest,  per- 
haps worst,  of  the  flock ;  sitting  round,  and  looking  on, 
all  the  winter,  whilst  this  one  was  devouring,  throwing 
about,  and  wasting  it;  and  if  a  pigeon,  more  hardy  or 
hungry  than  the  rest,  touched  a  grain  of  the  hoard,  all 
the  others  instantly  flying  upon  it,  and  tearing  it  to 
pieces ;  if  you  should  see  this,  you  would  see  nothing 
more  than  what  is  every  day  practised  and  established 
among  men.  Among  men,  you  see  the  ninety  and  nine 
toiling  and  scraping  together  a  heap  of  superfluities  for 
one,  (and  this  one  too,  oftentimes  the  feeblest  and  worst 
of  the  whole  set,  a  child,  a  woman,  a  madman,  or  a 
fool ;)  getting  nothing  for  themselves  all  the  while,  but 
a  little  of  the  coarsest  of  the  provision,  which  their  own 
industry  produces ;  looking  quietly  on,  while  they  see 
the  fruits  of  all  their  labour  spent  or  spoiled ;  and  if  one 
of  the  number  take  or  touch  a  particle  of  the  hoard, 
the  others  joining  against  him,  and  hanging  him  foi 
the  theft. 

"  There  must  be  some  very  important  advantages  to 
account  for  an  institution,  which,  in  the  view  of  it  above 
given,  is  so  paradoxical  and  unnatural. 


134  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  „ 

"  The  principal  of  these  advantages  are  the  follow- 
ing:" &c.* 

introduc-  3c^y*  What  may  be  called  an  "  Introduc- 

tion cor-  tion  corrective,"  is  also  in  frequent  use ;  viz. 
rcctive.  to  show  that  the  subject  has  been  neglected% 
misunderstood,  or  misrepresented  by  others.  This  will, 
in  many  cases,  remove  a  most  formidable  obstacle  in 
the  hearer's  mind,  the  anticipation  of  triteness,  if  the 
subject  be — or  may  be  supposed  to  be — a  hacknied  one ; 
and  it  may  also  serve  to  remove  or  loosen  such  preju- 
dices as  might  be  adverse  to  the  favourable  reception 
of  our  Arguments. 

introduc-  4thly.    It  will   often  happen  also,   that 

tion  prepa-    there  may  be  need  to  explain  some  pecu 
ratory.         Uarity  in   the   mode    of   reasoning  to  be 
adopted ;  to  guard  against  some  possible  mistake  as  to 
the  object  proposed ;  or  to  apologize  for  some  deficiency 
this  may  be  called  the  "  Introduction  preparatory." 
introduc-  5thly,  and  lastly,  in  many  cases  there 

tion  narra-  will  be  occasion  for  what  may  be  called  a 
tive.  «  Narrative  Introduction,"  to  put  the  reader 

or  hearer  in  possession  of  the  outline  of  some  transac- 
tion, or  the  description  of  some  state  of  things,  to  which 
references  and  allusions  are  to  be  made  in  the  course 
of  the  Composition.  Thus,  in  Preaching,  it  is  generally 
found  advisable  to  detail,  or  at  least  briefly  to  sum  up, 
a  portion  of  Scripture-history,  or  a  parable,  when  either 
of  these  is  made  the  subject  of  a  Sermon. 

Two  or  more  of  the  introductions  that  have  been 
mentioned  are  often  combined ,  especially  in  the  Preface 
to  a  work  of  any  length.  And  very  often  the  Introduc- 
tion will  contain  appeals  to  various  passions  and  feelings 
in  the  hearers ;  especially  a  feeling  of  approbation 
towards  the  speaker,  or  of  prejudice  against  an  opponent 
who  has  preceded  him ;  but  this  is,  as  Aristotle  has 
remarked,  by  no  means  confined  to  Introductions.! 

*  Paley'e  Moral  Philosophy,  book  iii.  part  i.  c.  1  and  2. 

t  It  has  not  been  thought  necessary  to  treat  of  Conclusion,  Per© 


Part  U.]  OF  PERSUASION.  132 

PART  II. 

OF    PERSUASION. 


Chap.  I  — Introductory. 

§  1.  Persuasion,  properly  so  called,  i.  e  Analysis  of 
the  art  of  influencing  the  Will,  is  the  next  Persuasion, 
point  to  be  considered.  And  Rhetoric  is  often  regarded 
(as  was  formerly  remarked)  in  a  more  limited  sense,  as 
conversant  about  this  head  alone.  But  even,  according 
to  that  view,  the  rules  above  laid  down  will  be  found  not 
the  less  relevant ;  since  the  conviction  of  the  understand- 
ing (of  which  I  have  hitherto  been  treating)  is  an  essen- 
tia] -part  of  Persuasion ;  and  will  generally  need  to  be  ef- 
fected by  the  arguments  of  the  writer  or  speaker.  For 
in  order  that  the  will  may  be  influenced,  two  things  are 
requisite;  viz.  1.  that  the  proposed  object  should  appear 
desirable ;  and  2.  that  the  means  suggested  should  be 
proved  to  be  conducive  to  the  attainment  of  that  object ; 
and  this  last,  evidently  must  depend  on  a  process  of 
reasoning.  In  order,  e.  g.,  to  induce  the  Greeks  to 
unite  their  efforts  against  the  Persian  invader,  it  was 
necessary  both  to  prove  that  co-operation  could  alone 

ration,  or  Epilogue,  as  a  distinct  head  :  the  general  rules  that  t. 
Conclusion  should  be  neither  sudden  and  abrupt  (so  as  to  induce 
the  hearer  to  say,  "  I  did  not  know  he  was  going  to  leave  off,") 
nor,  again,  so  long  as  to  excite  the  hearer's  impatience  after  he  has 
been  led  to  expect  an  end,  being  so  obvious  as  hardly  to  need  being 
mentioned.  The  matter  of  which  the  concluding  part  of  a  Compo- 
sition consists,  will,  of  course,  vary  according  to  the  subject  and 
the  occasion  :  but  that  which  is  most  appropriate,  and  conse- 
quently most  frequent,  (in  Compositions  of  any  considerable 
length,)  is  a  Recapitulation,  either  of  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the 
arguments  that  have  been  csed  ;  respecting  which  a  remark  has 
been  made  at  the  end  of  chap.  iii.  §  7. 

Any  thing  relative  to  the  Feelings  and  the  Will,  that  may  be 
especially  appropriate  to  the  Conclusion,  will  be  mentioned  in  its 
proper  place. 


136  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  Q. 

render  their  resistance  effectual,  and  also  to  awaken 
such  feelings  of  patriotism,  and  abhorrence  of  a  foreign 
yoke,  as  might  prompt  them  to  make  these  combined 
efforts.  For,  it  is  evident,  that  however  ardent  their 
love  of  liberty,  they  would  make  no  exertions  if  they 
apprehended  no  danger  ;  or  if  they  thought  themselves 
able,  separately,  to  defend  themselves,  they  would  be 
backward  to  join  the  confederacy;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  that  if  they  were  willing  to  submit  to  the  Persian 
yoke,  or  valued  their  independence  less  than  their 
present  ease,  the  fullest  conviction  that  the  Means  re- 
commended would  secure  their  independence,  would 
have  had  no  practical  effect. 

Exhor-  Persuasion,  therefore,  depends  on,  first, 

tation.  Argument,  (to  prove  the  expediency  of  the 

means  proposed,)  and  secondly,  what  is  usually  called 
Exhortation,  i.  e.  the  excitement  of  men  to  adopt  those 
means,  by  representing  the  end  as  sufficiently  desirable. 
It  will  happen  indeed,  not  unfrequently,  that  the  one 
or  the  other  of  these  objects  will  have  been  already, 
either  wholly  or  in  part,  accomplished  ;  so  that  the 
other  shall  be  the  only  one  that  it  is  requisite  to  insist 
on ;  viz.  sometimes  the  hearers  will  be  sufficiently  intent 
on  the  pursuit  of  the  end,  and  will  be  in  doubt  only  as 
to  the  means  of  attaining  it ;  and  sometimes,  again, 
they  will  have  no  doubt  on  that  point,  but  will  be  in- 
different, or  not  sufficiently  ardent,  with  respect  to  the 
proposed  end,  and  will  need  to  be  stimulated  by  exhor- 
tations. Not  sufficiently  ardent,  I  have  said,  because  it 
will  not  so  often  happen  that  the  object  in  question  will 
be  one  to  which  they  are  totally  indifferent,  as  that  they 
will,  practically  at  least,  not  reckon  it,  or  not  feel  it,  to 
be  wortb  the  requisite  pains.  No  one  is  absolutely  in- 
different about  the  attainment  of  a  happy  immortality  ; 
and  yet  a  great  part  of  the  Preacher's  business  consists 
in  exhortation,  i.  e.  endeavouring  to  induce  men  to  use 
those  exertions  which  they  themselves  believe  to  be 
necessary  for  the  attainment  of  it. 


Chap.  I.  §  1.]         OF  PERSUASION.  137 

Aristotle,  and  many  other  writers,  hsve  . 

spoken  of  appeals  to  the  Passions  as  an  un- 
fair mode  of  influencing  the  hearers ;  in  answer  to 
which  Dr.  Campbell  has  remarked,  that  there  can  be  no 
Persuasion  without  an  address  to  the  Passions  :*  and  il 
is  evident,  from  what  has  been  just  said,  that  he  is  right, 
if  under  the  term  Passion  is  included  every  Active  Prin- 
ciple of  our  nature.  This  however  is  a  greater  latitude 
of  meaning  than  belongs  even  to  the  Greek  word  Uud?] ; 
though  the  signification  of  that  is  wider  than,  according 
to  ordinary  use,  that  of  our  term  "  Passions." 

But  Aristotle  by  no  means  overlooked  the  influence  of 
necessity  with  a  view  to  Persuasion,  proper-  tlie  wm- 
ly  so  termed,  of  calling  into  action  some  motive  that  may 
influence  the  Will ;  it  is  plain  that,  whenever  he  speaks 

*  "  To  say,  that  it  is  possible  to  persuade  without  speaking  to  the 
passions  is  but  at  best  a  kind  of  specious  nonsense.  The  coolest 
reasoner  always  in  persuading,  addiesseth  himself  to  the  passions 
some  way  or  other.  This  he  cannot  avoid  doing,  if  he  speak  to  the 
purpose.  To  make  me  believe,  it  is  enough  to  show  me  that  things 
are  so  ;  to  make  me  act,  it  is  necessary  to  show  that  the  action 
will  answer  some  End.  That  can  never  be  an  End  to  me  which 
gratifies  no  passion  or  affection  in  my  nature.  You  assure  me, 
'  It  is  for  my  honour.'  Now  you  solicit  my  pride,  without  which 
I  had  never  been  able  to  understand  the  word.  You  say,  '  It  is  for 
my  interest.'  Now  you  bespeak  my  self-love.  '  It  is  for  the  public 
good.'  Now  you  rouse  my  patriotism.  '  It  will  relieve  the  mise- 
rable.' Now  you  touch  my  pity.  So  far  therefore  is  it  from  being 
an  unlair  method  of  persuasion  to  move  the  passions,  that  there  is 
no  persuasion  without  moving  them. 

"  But  if  so  much  depend  on  passion,  where  is  the  scope  for  argu- 
ment ?  Before  I  answer  this  question,  let  it  be  observed,  that,  in 
order  to  persuade,  there  are  two  things  which  must  be  carefully 
studied  by  the  orator.  The  first  is,  to  excite  some  desire  or  passion 
in  the  hearers  ;  the  second  is,  to  satisfy  their  judgment  that  there 
js  a  connexion  between  the  action  to  which  he  would  persuade 
them,  and  the  gratification  of  the  desire  or  passion  which  he  ex- 
cites. This  is  the  analysis  of  persuasion.  The  former  is  effected 
by  communicating  lively  and  glowing  ideas  of  the  object ;  the 
latter,  unless  so  evident  of  itself  as  to  supersede  the  necessity,  by 
presenting  the  best  and  most  forcible  arguments  which  the  nature 
of  the  subject  admits.  In  the  one  lies  the  pathetic,  in  the  other  the 
argumentative.  These  incorporated  together  constitute  that  vehe 
mence  of  contention  to  which  the  greatest  exploits  of  Eloquence 
ought  doubtless  to  be  ascribed." — Campbell's  Phihsipky  of  Rhcto 
ric,  book  i.  chap.  vii.  ^  4 


138  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  II 

with  reprobation  of  an  appeal  to  the  Passions,  his  mean- 
ing is,  the  excitement  of  such  feelings  as  ought  not  to 
influence  the  decision  of  the  question  in  hand  A  de- 
sire to  do  justice,  may  be  called,  in  Dr.  Campbell's  wide 
acceptation  of  the  term, a  "Passion"  or  "Affection;" 
this  is  what  ought  to  influence  a  Judge ;  and  no  one 
would  ever  censure  a  Pleader  for  striving  to  excite  and 
aeighten  this  desire ;  but  if  the  decision  be  influenced 
by  an  appeal  to  Anger,  Pity,  &c,  the  feelings  thus  ex- 
cited being  such  as  ought  not  to  have  operated,  the 
Judge  must  be  allowed  to  have  been  unduly  biassed. 
And  that  this  is  Aristotle's  meaning  is  evident  from  his 
characterising  the  introduction  of  such  topics,  as  elja 
tov  Trpuyfiaro^,  "  foreign  to  the  matter  in  hand."  It  is 
evident,  also,  that  as  the  motives  which  ought  to  operate 
will  be  different  in  different  cases,  the  same  may  be  ob- 
jectionable and  not  fairly  admissible,  in  one  case,  which, 
in  another,  would  be  perfectly  allowable.*  An  instance 
occurs  in  Thucydides,  in  which  this  is  very  judiciously 
and  neatly  pointed  out ;  in  the  debate  respecting  the 
Mityleneans,  who  had  been  subdued  after  a  revolt, 
Cleon  is  introduced  contending  for  the  justice  of  inflict- 
ing on  them  capital  punishment ;  to  which  Diodotus  is 
made  to  reply,  that  the  Athenians  are  not  sitting  in 
judgment  on  the  offenders,  but  in  deliberation  as  to 
their  own  interest ;  and  ought,  therefore,  to  consider,  not 
the  right  they  may  have  to  put  the  revolters  to  death, 
but  the  expediency  or  inexpediency  of  such  a  procedure. 
In  judicial  cases,  on  the  contrary,  any  appeal  to  the 
personal  interests  of  the  Judge,  or  even  to  public  expe- 
diency, would  be  irrelevant.  In  framing  laws  indeed, 
and  (which  comes  to  the  same  thing)  giving  those  deci- 
sions which  are  to  operate  as  Precedents,  the  public 
good  is  the  object  to  be  pursued  ;  but  in  the  mere  ad' 
ministering  of  the  established  laws,  it  is  inadmissible. 
Improper  There  are  many  feelings,  again,  which  it 

motives.       js  evident  should  in  no  case  be  allowed  to 
*  See  the  Treatise  on  Fallacies,  5j  14. 


Dhap.  I.  §  2.]         OF  PERSUASION.  139 

operate ;  as  envy,  thirst  for  revenge,  &c.  vhe  excitement 
of  which  by  the  orator  is  to  be  reprobated  as  an  unfair 
artifice ;  but  it  is  not  the  less  necessary  to  be  well  ac- 
quainted with  their  nature,  in  order  to  allay  them  when 
previously  existing  in  the  hearers,  or  to  counteract  the 
efforts  of  an  adversary  in  producing  or  directing  them. 
It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  all  the  weaknesses,  as  well  as 
the  powers,  of  the  human  mind,  and  all  the  arts  by 
which  the  sophist  takes  advantage  of  these  weaknesses, 
must  be  familiarly  known  by  a  perfect  orator ;  who, 
though  he  may  be  of  such  a  character  as  to  disdain  em- 
ploying such  arts,  must  not  want  the  ability  to  do  so, 
or  he  would  not  be  prepared  to  counteract  them.  An 
acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  poisons  is  necessary  to 
him  who  would  administer  antidotes. 

§  2.  There  is,  I  conceive,  no  point  in 
which  the  idea  of  dishonest  artifice  is,  in  listing6 
most  people's  minds,  so  intimately  associated  againstW 
with  that  of  Rhetoric,  as  the  address  to  the  f" ^^  ot 
feelings  or  active  principles  of  our  nature. 
This  is  usually  stigmatized  as  "  an  appeal  to  the  pas- 
sions instead  of  the  reason ;"  as  if  reason  alone  could 
ever  influence  the  will,  and  operate  as  a  motive  ;  which 
it  no  more  can,  than  the  eyes,  which  show  a  man  his 
road,  can  enable  him  to  move  from  place  to  place ;  or 
than  a  ship  provided  with  a  compass,  can  sail  without 
a  wind.  It  may  be  said  indeed,  with  truth,  that  an  ora- 
tor does  often  influence  the  will  by  improper  appeals  to 
the  passions ;  but  it  is  no  less  true  that  he  often  impo- 
ses on  the  understanding  of  his  hearers  by  sophistical 
arguments  :  yet  this  does  not  authorize  us  to  reprobate 
the  employment  of  argument.  But  it  seems  to  be  com. 
monly  taken  for  granted,  that  whenever  the  feelings  are 
excited  they  are  of  course  over-excited.  Now  so  far  is 
this  from  the  fact — so  far  is  it  from  being  true,  that 
men  are  universally,  or  even  generally,  in  danger  of 
being  misled  in  conduct  by»an  excess oi  feeling,  that  the 
reverse  is,  at  least  as  often,  the  case.     The  more  gener- 


140  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  11 

ous  feelings,  such  as  compassion,  gratiJode,  devotion, 
nay,  even  rational  and  rightly-directed  self-love,  hope, 
and  fear,  arc  oftener  defective  than  excessive, and  that, 
even  in  the  estimation  of  the  parties  themselves,  if  they 
are  well-principled,  judicious,  reflective,  and  candid  men. 
Do  the  feelings  of  such  a  man,  when  contemplating,  foi 
instance,  the  doctrines  and  the  promises  of  the  Christian 
religion,  usually  come  up  to  the  standard  which  he  him- 
self thinks  reasonable  ?  And  not  only  in  the  case  of  re- 
ligion, but  in  many  others  also,  a  man  will  often  won- 
der at,  and  be  rather  ashamed  of,  the  coldness  and 
languor  of  his  own  feelings,  compared  with  what  the 
occasion  calls  for  :  and  even  makes  efforts  to  rouse  in 
himself  such  emotions  as  he  is  conscious  his  reason 
would  approve. 

The  senti-  In  making  such  an  effort,  a  curious  and 
ments,  &c.  important  fact  is  forced  on  the  attention  of 
the  direct  every  one  who  reflects  on  the  operations  of 
control  of  his  own  mind  ;  viz.  that  the  feelings,  propen- 
the  will.  sities,  and  sentiments  of  our  nature,  are  not, 
like  the  intellectual  Faculties,  under  the  direct  control  of 
volition.  The  distinction  is  much  the  same  as  between 
the  voluntary  and  the  involuntary  actions  of  different 
parts  of  the  body.  One  may,  by  a  deliberate  act  of  the 
will,  set  himsell  to  calculate — to  reason — to  recall  his- 
torical facts,  &c.  just  as  he  does,  to  move  any  of  his 
limbs:  on  the  other  hand,  a  volition  to  hope  or  fear,  to 
love  or  hate,  to  feel  devotion  or  pity,  and  the  like,  is  as 
ineffectual  as  to  will  that  the  pulsations  of  the  heart,  or 
the  secretions  of  the  liver,  should  be  altered.  Some  in- 
deed are.  I  believe,  (strange  as  it  would  seem)  not  aware 
of  the  total  inefficacy  of  their  own  efforts  of  volition  in 
such  cases  :  that  is,  they  mistake  for  a.  feeling  of  grati- 
tude, compassion,  &c.  their  voluntary  reflections  on  the 
subject,  and  their  conviction  that  the  case  is  one  which 
calls  for  gratitude  or  compassion.  Avery  moderate  de- 
gree of  attention,  however^  to  what  is  passing  in  the 
mind,  will  enable  any  one  to  perceive  the  difference.    A 


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re:;™;:  :: —       z  >    -  z      ;v  -    :  zz    ;.:  .:    z  z  s::;   ;z 
ia  fcMHwg  sack  sari'rxs*  s«|$ose,  ci  »Tt>;c?.  acaz- 
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.  42  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  IL 

A  man  of  on  the  involuntary  bodily  organs,)  a  process 
sense  prac-  f0  wmch  a  man  of  well-regulated  mind  coli- 
tises Rhe-        .         it      n     ■>  •        .    °  .    1       • 

toric  on  tinually  finds  occasion  tc  resort,  he  is  pre- 
himself-  cisely  acting  the  part  of  a  skilful  orator, 
to  himself ;  and  that  too,  in  respect  of  the  very  point  to 
which  the  most  invidious  names  are  usually  given, 
"  the  appeal  to  the  feelings." 

Such  being  then  the  state  of  the  case,  how,  it  maybe 
said,  can  it  be  accounted  for,  that  the  idea  of  unfair 
artifice  should  be  so  commonly  associated  not  only  with 
Rhetoric  in  general,  but  most  especially  with  that  parti- 
cular part  of  it  now  under  consideration?  though  no 
other  artifice  is  necessarily  employed  by  the  orator  than 
a  man  of  sense  makes  use  of  towards  himself. 
Address  to  Many  different  circumstances  combine  to 
the  feelings  produce  this  effect.  In  the  first  place,  the 
indirect.  intellectual  powers  being,  as  has  been  said, 
under  the  immediate  control  of  the  Will,  which  the 
feelings,  sentiments,  &c.  are  not,  an  address  to  the 
understanding  is  consequently,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  direct ;  to  the  feelings,  indirect.  The  conclusion 
you  wish  to  draw,  you  may  state  plainly,  as  such ;  and 
avow  your  intention  of  producing  reasons,  which  shall 
effect  a  conviction  of  that  conclusion :  you  may  even 
entreat  the  hearers'  steady  attention  to  the  point  to  be 
proved,  and  to  the  process  of  argument  by  which  it  is 
to  be  established.  But  this,  for  the  reasons  above 
mentioned,  is  widely  different  from  the  process  by 
which  we  operate  on  the  Feelings.  No  passion,  senti- 
ment, or  emotion,  is  excited  by  thinking  about  it,  and 
attending  to  it ;  but  by  thinking  about,  and  attending  to, 
such  objects  as  are  calculated  to  awaken  it.  Hence  it 
is,  that  the  more  oblique  and  indirect  process  which 
takes  place  when  we  are  addressing  ourselves  to  this 
part  of  the  human  mind,  is  apt  to  suggest  the  idea  of 
trick  and  artifice ;  although  it  is,  as  I  have  said,  just 
such  as  a  wise  man  practises  towards  himself. 

In  the  next  place,  though  men  are  often  deluded  by 


Chap.  I.  §  2.]       OF  PERSUASION.  143 

sophistical  arguments  addressed  to  the  under-  Delusions 
standing,  they  do  not,  in  this  case,  so  readily  derstandiner 
detect  the  deceit  that  has  been  practised  harder  to 
on  them,  as  they  do  in  the  case  of  their  detect, 
being  misled  by  the  excitement  of  passions.  A  few 
days,  or  even  hours,  will  often  allow  them  to  cool, 
sufficiently,  to  view  in  very  different  colours,  some 
question  on  which  they  have  perhaps  decided  in  a 
moment  of  excitement ;  whereas  any  sophistical  reason- 
ing by  which  they  had  been  misled,  they  are  perhaps 
as  unable  to  detect  as  ever.  The  state  of  the  feelings, 
in  short,  varies  from  day  to  day ;  the  understanding 
remains  nearly  the  same :  and  hence  the  idea  of  deceit 
is  more  particularly  associated  with  that  kind  of  deceit 
which  is  the  less  permanent  in  its  effects,  and  the 
sooner  detected. 

To  these  considerations  it  may  be  added,  Men  dis- 
that  men  have  in  general  more  confidence  in  |1ru?t  m°re 
the  soundness  of  their  understanding,  than  -mgs  than 
in  their  self-command  and  due  regulation  of  their  under 
feelings:  they  are  more  unwilling,  conse-  staudinS- 
quently,  to  believe  that  an  orator  has  misled,  or  can 
mislead  them,  by  sophistical  arguments — that  is  by 
taking  advantage  of  their  intellectual  weakness — than 
by  operating  on  their  feelings ;  and  hence,  the  delusions 
which  an  artful  orator  produces,  are  often  attributed  in 
a  greater  degree  than  is  really  the  case,  to  the  influence 
he  has  exerted  on  the  passions. 

But  if  every  thing  were  to  be  regarded  with  aversion 
or  with  suspicion  that  is  capable  of  being  employed 
dishonestly,  or  for  a  bad  purpose,  the  use  of  language 
might  be  condemned  altogether.  It  does  indeed  often 
happen,  that  men's  feelings  are  extravagantly  excited 
on  some  inadequate  occasion:  this  only  proves  how 
important  it  is  that  either  they,  or  the  person  who 
undertakes  to  advise  them,  should  understand  how  to 
bring  down  these  feelings  to  the  proper  pitch.  And  it 
happens  full  as  often  (which  is  what  most  persons  are 


144  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  II 

The  feel-  apt  to  overlook)  that  their  feelings  fall  fai 
ings  as  apt  short  of  what,  even  in  their  own  judgment, 
of  aftfex-  the  occasion  would  call  for :  and  in  this  case 
ce'ed  the  an  excitement  of  such  feelings,  though  not 
proper  point.  effected  directly  hy  a  process  of  reasoning, 
is  very  far  from  being  any  thing  apposed  to  reason,  or 
tending  to  mislead  the  judgment.  Stimulants  are  not 
lo  be  condemned  as  necessarily  bringing  the  body  into 
an  unnatural  state,  because  they  raise  the  circulation : 
in  a  fever  this  would  be  hurtful ;  but  there  may  be  a 
torpid,  lethargic  disease,  in  which  an  excitement  of  the 
circulation  is  precisely  what  is  wanted  to  bring  it  into  a 
healthy  condition. 

Division  of  §  3#  The  Active  Principles  of  our  nature 
active  prin-  may  be  classed  in  various  ways ;  thearrange- 
cipies.  ment  adopted  by  Mr.  Dugald  Stewart*  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  correct  and  convenient ;  the  heads  he 
enumerates  are  Appetites,  (which  have  their  origin  in  the 
body,)  Desires,  and  Affections  ;  these  last  being  such  as 
imply  some  kind  of  disposition  relative  to  another 
Person ;  to  which  must  be  added,  Self-love,  or  the  desire 
of  happiness,  as  such ;  and  the  Moral -faculty,  called  by 
some  writers  Conscience,  by  others  Conscientiousness, 
by  others  the  Moral  sense,  and  by  Dr.  A.  Smith,  the 
sense  of  Propriety. 

Under  the  head  of  Affections  may  be  included  the 
sentiments  of  Esteem,  Regard,  Admiration,  &c.  which 
it  is  so  important  that  the  audience  should  feel  towards 
the  Speaker.  Aristotle  has  considered  this  as  a  distinct 
head;  separating  the  consideration  of  the  Speaker's 
character  ('Htfoc  rov  Tieyovrog)  from  that  of  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  hearers;  under  which,  however,  it  might, 
according  to  his  own  views,  have  been  included ;  if 
being  plain  from  his  manner  of  treating  of  the  Speaker'* 
character,  that  he  means,  not  his  real  character,  (accord 
ing  to  the  fanciful  notion  of  Quinctilian,)  but  the  im 

*  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy. 


Chap.  II.  §  1.]       OF  PERSUASION.  145 

pression  produced  on  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  by  th« 
Speaker,  respecting  himself. 

He  remarks,  justly,  that  the  character  to 
be  established  is  that  of,  first,  Good  Princi-  to  bfesta^ 
ple,   secondly,   Good   Sense,    and    thirdly,  Wished  by- 
Goodwill  and  friendly  disposition  towards  the  J^®    spea* 
audience  addressed;*  and  that  if  the  Orator 
can  completely  succeed  in  this,  he  will  persuade  more 
powerfully  than  by  the  strongest  Arguments.    He  might 
have  added,  (as  indeed  he  does  slightly  hint  at  the  con- 
clusion of  his  Treatise,)  that,  where  there  is  an  Oppo- 
nent, a  like  result  is  produced  by  exciting  the  contrary 
feelings  respecting  him ;  viz.  holding  him  up  to  con- 
tempt, or  representing  him  as  an  object  of  reprobation 
or  suspicion. 

To  treat  fully  of  all  the  different  emotions  and  springs 
of  action  which  an  orator  may  at  any  time  find  it  neces- 
sary to  call  into  play,  or  to  contend  against,  would  be  to 
enter  on  an  almost  boundless  field  of  metaphysical  in- 
quiry, which  does  not  properly  fall  within  the  limits  of 
the  subject  now  before  us :  and  on  the  other  hand,  a 
brief  definition  of  each  passion,  &c.  and  a  few  general 
remarks  on  it,  could  hardly  fail  to  be  trite  and  uninte- 
resting. A  few  miscellaneous  rules  therefore  may 
suffice,  relative  to  the  conduct,  generally,  of  those  parts 
of  any  Composition  which  are  designed  to  influence  the 
will. 


Chap.  II. — Of  the  conduct  of  any  address  to  the  Feel 
ings,  generally. 

§  I .  The  first  and  most  important  point  to  be  Men  impa- 
observed  in  every  address  to  any  Passion,  tient  of  die 
Sentiment,  Feeling,  &c.  is,  (as  has  been  al-  ^l?™1* 
ready  hinted,)  that  it  should  not  be  inlro-  their  feel 
duced  as  such,  and  plainly  avowed ;  other-  in&8 

*  'A/>£r>j  <l>p6i'r]jis,  Evvoia,  book  ii.  c.  1 

19 


,146  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Paxt  1L 

wise  the  effect  will  be,  in  great  measure,  if  not  entirely, 
lost.  This  circumstance  forms  a  remarkable  distinction 
between  the  head  now  under  consideration,  and  that  of 
Argumentation.  When  engaged  in  Reasoning,  properly 
so  called,  our  purpose  not  only  need  not  be  concealed 
but  may,  (as  I  have  said,)  without  prejudice  to  the 
effect,  be  distinctly  declared :  on  the  other  hand,  even 
■when  the  Feelings  we  wish  to  excite  are  such  as  ought 
to  operate,  so  that  there  is  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of 
the  endeavours  thus  to  influence  the  hearer,  still  our 
purpose  and  drift  should  be,  if  not  absolutely  concealed, 
yet  not  openly  declared,  and  made  prominent.  Whether 
the  motives  which  the  orator  is  endeavouring  to  call 
into  action  be  suitable  or  unsuitable  to  the  occasion — 
such  as  it  is  right,  or  wrong,  for  the  hearer  to  act  upon, 
the  same  rule  will  hold  good.  In  the  latter  case  it  is 
plain,  that  the  speaker  who  is  seeking  to  bias  unfairly 
the  minds  of  the  audience  will  be  the  more  likely  to 
succeed  by  going  to  work  clandestinely,  in  order  thai 
his  hearers  may  not  be  on  their  guard,  and  prepare  and 
fortify  their  minds  against  the  impression  he  wishes  to 
produce.  In  the  other  case — where  the  motives  dwelt 
on  are  such  as  ought  to  be  present,  and  strongly  to 
operate,  men  are  not  likely  to  be  pleased  with  the  idea 
that  they  need  to  have  these  motives  urged  upon  them, 
and  that  they  are  not  already  sufficiently  under  the  in- 
fluence of  such  sentiments  as  the  occasion  calls  for.  A 
man  may  indeed  be  convinced  that  he  is  in  such  a  pre- 
dicament ;  and  may  ultimately  feel  obliged  to  the  Orator 
for  exciting  or  strengthening  such  sentiments ;  but 
while  he  confesses  this,  he  cannot  but  feel  a  degree  of 
mortification  in  making  the  confession,  and  a  kind  of 
jealousy  of  the  apparent  assumption  of  superiority,  in 
a  speaker,  who  seems  to  say,  "  now  I  will  exhort  you 
to  feel  as  you  ought  on  this  occasion  ;"  "  I  will  endea- 
vour to  inspire  you  with  such  noble,  and  generous,  ana 
amiable  sentiments  as  you  ought  to  entertain  ;"  which 
is,  in  effect,  the  tone  of  him  vvho  avows  the  purpose  of 


Chap.  II.  §  ] .]         OF  PERSUASION.  147 

Exhortation.  The  mind  is  sure  to  revolt  from  the  hu 
miliation  of  being  thus  moulded  and  fashioned,  in  respect 
to  its  feelings,  at  the  pleasure  of  another;  and  is  apt, 
perversely,  to  resist  the  influence  of  such  a  discipline. 

Whereas,  there  is  no  such  implied  superiority  in 
avowing  the  intention  of  convincing  the  understanding. 
Men  know,  and  (what  is  more  to  the  purpose)  feel,  that 
he  who  presents  to  their  minds  a  new  and  cogent  train 
of  Argument,  does  not  necessarily  possess  or  assume 
any  offensive  superiority  ;  but  may,  by  merely  having 
devoted  a  particular  attention  to  the  point  in  question, 
succeed  in  setting  before  them  arguments  and  explana- 
tions which  have  not  occurred  to  themselves.  And 
even  if  the  arguments  adduced,  and  the  conclusions 
drawn,  should  be  opposite  to  those  with  which  they  had 
formerly  been  satisfied,  still  there  is  nothing  in  this  so 
humiliating,  as  in  that  which  seems  to  amount  to  the 
imputation  of  a  moral  deficiency. 

It  is  true  that  sermons  not  unfrequently  Caution 
prove  popular,  which  consist  avowedly  and  against 
almost  exclusively  of  Exhortation,  strictly  ^Station5* 
so  called — in  which  the  design  of  influencing 
the  sentiments  and  feelings  is  not  only  apparent,  but 
prominent  throughout :  but  it  is  to  be  feared,  that  those 
who  are  the  most  pleased  with  such  discourses,  are 
more  apt  to  apply  these  Exhortations  to  their  neigh- 
bours than  to  themselves ;  and  that  each  bestows  his 
commendation  rather  from  the  consideration  that  such 
admonitions  are  much  needed,  and  must  be  generally 
useful,  than  from  finding  them  thus  useful  to  himself. 

When  indeed  the  speaker  has  made  some  progress  in 
exciting  the  feelings  required,  and  has  in  great  measure 
gained  possession  of  his  audience,  a  direct  and  distinct 
exhortation  to  adopt  the  conduct  recommended  will 
often  prove  very  effectual ;  but  never  can  it  be  needful 
o:  advisable  to  tell  them  (as  some  do)  that  you  are  going 
to  exhort  them 

It  will,  indeed,  sometimes  happen  that  the  excitement 


148  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  II. 

of  a  certain  feeling  will  depend,  in  some  measure,  on  a 
process  of  Reasoning  ;  e.  g.  it  may  be  requisite  to  prove, 
where  there  is  a  doubt  on  the  subject,  that  the  person 
so  recommended  to  the  pity,  gratitude,  &c.  of  the  hearers, 
"\s  really  an  object  deserving  of  these  sentiments :  but 
even  then,  it  will  almost  always  be  the  case,  that  the 
chief  point  to  be  accomplished,  shall  be  to  raise  those 
feelings  to  the  requisite  height,  after  the  understanding 
is  convinced  that  the  occasion  calls  for  them  And  this 
is  to  be  effected  not  by  Argument,  properly  so  called, 
but  by  presenting  the  circumstances  in  such  a  point  oJ 
view,  and  so  fixing  and  detaining  the  attention  upon 
them,  that  corresponding  sentiments  and  emotions  shall 
gradually,  and,  as  it  were,  spontaneously,  arise. 

Sermons  would  probably  have  more  effect, 

Hortatory  -f  instead  0f  being,  as  they  frequently  are, 
Sermons.  >  »'  J         t-        .  J        .' 

directly  hortatory,  they  were  more  m  a  di- 
dactic form  ;  occupied  chiefly  in  explaining  some  trans- 
action related,  or  doctrine  laid  down,  in  Scripture.  The 
generality  of  hearers  are  too  much  familiarized  to  direct 
exhortation  to  feel  it  adequately  :  if  they  are  led  to  the 
same  point  obliquely,  as  it  were,  and  induced  to  dwell 
with  interest  for  a  considerable  time  on  some  point, 
closely,  though  incidentally,  connected  with  the  most 
awful  and  important  truths,  a  very  slight  application  to 
themselves  might  make  a  greater  impression  than  the 
most  vehement  appeal  in  the  outset.  Often  indeed  they 
would  themselves  make  this  application  unconsciously  ; 
and  if  on  any  this  procedure  made  no  impression,  it  can 
hardly  be  expected  that  any  thing  else  would.  To  use 
a  homely  illustration,  a  moderate  charge  of  powder  will 
have  more  effect  in  splitting  a  rock,  if  we  begin  by  deep 
boring,  and  introducing  the  charge  into  the  very  heart 
of  it,  than  ten  times  the  quantity,  exploded  on  the 
surface. 

Advantage  §  2-  Hence  arises  another  rule  closely 
of  copious  connected  with  the  foregoing,  though  it  also 
detail.  g0  far  re]ates  to  style  that  it  might  with  suf- 


Chap  II  §  2.]       OF  PERSUASION.  149 

ficient  propriety  have  been  placed  under  that  head  ;  viz. 
that  in  order  effectually  to  excite  feelings  of  any  kind, 
it  is  necessary  to  employ  some  copiousness  of  detail, 
and  to  dwell  somewhat  at  large  on  the  several  circum- 
stances of  the  case  in  hand  ;  in  which  respect  there  is 
a.  wide  distinction  between  strict  Argumentation,  with 
a  view  to  the  Conviction  of  the  Understanding  alone, 
and  the  attempt  to  influence  the  Will,  by  the  excitement 
of  any  Emotion.*  With  respect  to  Argument  itself,  in- 
deed, different  occasions  will  call  for  different  degrees  of 
copiousness,  repetition,  and  expansion  ;— the  chain  of 
reasoning  employed,  may  in  itself,  consist  of  more  or 
fewer  links ; — abstruse  and  complex  arguments  must 
be  unfolded  at  greater  length  than  such  as  are  more 
simple ;  and  the  more  uncultivated  the  audience,  the 
more  full  must  be  the  explanation  and  illustration,  and 
the  more  frequent  the  repetition,  of  the  arguments  pre- 
sented to  them  ;  but  still  the  same  general  principle  pre- 
vails in  all  these  cases ;  viz.  to  aim  merely  at  letting 
the  arguments  be  fully  understood  and  admitted.  This 
will  indeed  occupy  a  shorter  or  longer  space,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  case  and  the  character  of  the  hear- 
ers ;  but  all  expansion  and  repetition  beyond  what  is  ne- 
cessary to  accomplish  Conviction,  is,  in  every  instance, 
tedious  and  disgusting.  Tn  a  Description,  on  the  other 
nand,  of  anything  that  is  likely  to  act  on  the  Feelings, 
this  effect  will  by  no  means  be  produced  as  soon  as  the 
understanding  is  sufficiently  informed;  detail  and  ex- 
pansion are  here  not  only  admissible,  but  absolutely 
necessary,  in  order  that  the  mind  may  have  leisure  and 

*  "  Non  enim,  sicut  argumentum,  simulatque  positum  est,  arripi- 
tur,  alterumque  et  tertium  poscitur  ;  ita  misericordiam  ant  invidiam 
eut  iracundiam,  simulatque  intuleris,  possis  eommovere  :  argumen- 
tum enim  ratio  ipsa  confirmat,  quae,  simulatque  emissa  est,  adhrer6 
Beit ;  illud  autem  genus  orationis  non  cognitionem  judicis,  sed  ma- 
giS  perturbationem  requirit,  quam  consequi,  nisi  multa  et  varia  et 
copiosa  oratione,  et  simili  contentione  actionis,  nemo  potest.  Quaro 
qui  aut  breviter  aut  summisse  dicunt,  docere  judicem  possunt, 
Eommovere  non  possunt ;  in  quo  sunt  omnia."  Cic.  de  Orat.  lib.  ii 
C.  53 


150  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Pakt  II 

opportunity  to  form  vivid  and  distinct  ideas.  For,  as 
Quinctilian  well  observes,  lie  who  tells  us  that  a  city 
was  sacked,  although  that  one  word  implies  all  that  oc- 
curred, will  produce  little,  if  any,  impression  on  the 
feelings,*  in  comparison  of  one  who  sets  before  us  a 
lively  description  of  the  various  lamentable  circum- 
stances. To  tell  the  whole,  he  adds,  is  by  no  means  the 
same  as  to  tell  every  thing. 

Accordingly  it  may  be  observed,  that  though  every 
one  understands  what  is  meant  by  "  a  wound,"  there 
are  some  who  cannot  hear  a  minute  description  of  one 
without  fainting. 

The  death  of  Patroclus  is  minutely  related  by  Homer, 
for  the  interest  of  the  reader;  though  to  Achilles,  whose 
feelings  would  be  sufficiently  excited  by  the  bare  fact* 
it  is  told  in  two  words :  Kelrai  HuTponlog. 

There  is  an  instance  related  in  a  number  of  the  Ad- 
venturer, of  a  whole  audience  being  moved  to  tears  by 
minute  detail  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  the 
death  of  a  youthful  pair  at  the  battle  of  Fontenoy  ; 
though  they  had  previously  listened  without  emotion  to 
a  general  statement  of  the  dreadful  carnage  in  that  en- 
gagement. 

It  is  not,  however,  with  a  view  to  the  Feelings  only, 
that  some  copiousness  of  detail  will  occasionally  be 
needful ;  it  will  often  happen  that  the  Judgment  cannot 
be  correctly  formed,  without  dwelling  on  circumstances, 
imagina-  ^  nas  seldom  if  ever  been  noticed,  how 

tion  needed  important  among  the  intellectual  qualifica- 
in  the ;  study  tions  for  the  study  of  history,  is  a  vivid 
o  lnstorj .  jmagination  .  a  faculty  which  consequently 
a  skilful  narrator  must  himself  possess,  and  to  whicl 
he  must  be  able  to  furnish  excitement  in  others.  Som 
may  perhaps  be  startled  at  this  remark,  who  have  bee., 
accustomed  to  consider  Imagination  as  having  no  otiici 

*  Dr.  Campbell  has  treated  very  ably  of  some  circumstance* 
which  tend  to  heighten  any  impression.  The  reader  is  referred  t* 
the  Appendix,  [H]  for  some  extracts 


Chap.  II.  $  3.]       OF  PERSUASION.  151 

office  than  to  feign  and  falsify.  Every  faculty  is  liable 
to  abuse  and  misdirection  ;  and  Imagination  among  the 
rest :  but  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  necessarily 
tends  to  pervert  the  truth  of  history,  and  to  mislead  the 
Judgment.  On  the  contrary,  our  view  of  any  transac- 
tion, especially  one  that  is  remote  in  time  or  place,  will 
necessarily  be  imperfect,  generally,  incorrect,  unless  it 
embrace  something  more  than  the  bare  outline  of  the 
occurrences  ; — unless  we  have  before  the  mind  a  lively 
idea  of  the  scenes  in  which  the  events  took  place,  the 
habits  of  thought  and  of  feeling  of  the  actors,  and  all 
the  circumstances  connected  with  the  transaction ; — 
unless,  in  short,  we  can  in  a  considerable  degree  trans- 
port ourselves  out  of  our  own  age,  and  country,  and 
persons,  and  imagine  ourselves  the  agents  or  spectators. 
It  is  from  a  consideration  of  all  these  circumstances  that 
we  are  enabled  to  form  a  right  judgment  as  to  the  facts 
which  History  records,  and  to  derive  instruction  from 
it*  What  we  imagine,  may  indeed  be  merely  imagi- 
nary, i.  e.  unreal ;  but  it  may  again  be  what  actually 
does  or  did  exist.  To  say  that  Imagination,  if  not 
regulated  by  sound  judgment  and  sufficient  knowledge, 
may  chance  to  convey  to  us  false  impressions  of  past 
events,  is  only  to  say  that  man  is  fallible.  But  such 
false  impressions  are  even  much  the  more  likely  to  take 
possession  of  those  whose  Imagination  is  feeble  or 
uncultivated.  They  are  apt  to  imagine  the  things, 
persons,  times,  countries,  &c.  which  they  read  of,  as 
much  less  different  from  what  they  see  around  them, 
than  is  really  the  case. 

§  3.  It  is  not,  however,  always  advisable  indirect 
to  enter  into  a  direct  detail  of  circumstances ;  description, 
which  would  often  have  the  effect  of  wearying  the 
hearer  beforehand,  with  the  expectation  of  a  long  de- 
scription oi  something  in  which  he  probably  does  not, 
as  yet,  feel  much  interest ;  and  would  also  be  likely  lo 
prepare  him  too  much,  and  forewarn  him,  as  it  were,  of 

*  See  Appendix,  [I.] 


152  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      {Pari  IL 

the  object  proposed — the  design  laid  against  his  feelings. 
ft  is  observed  by  Opticians  and  Astronomers  that  aside- 
view  of  a  faint  star,  or,  especially,  of  a  comet,  presents 
it  m  much  greater  brilliancy  than  a  direct-view.  To 
see  a  comet  in  its  full  splendour,  you  should  look,  not 
straight  at  it,  but  at  some  star  a  little  beside  it.  Some- 
thing analogous  to  this,  often  takes  place  in  mental  per 
ceptions.  ft  will  often,  therefore,  have  a  better  effect  to 
describe  obliquely,  (if  I  may  so  speak,)  by  introducing 
circumstances  connected  with  the  main  object  or  event, 
and  affected  by  it,  but  not  absolutely  forming  a  part  of 
it.  And  circumstances  of  this  kind  may  not  unfre- 
quently  be  so  selected  as  to  produce  a  more  striking 
impression  of  any  thing  that  is  in  itself  great  and  re- 
markable, than  could  be  produced  by  a  minute  and 
direct  description  ;  because  in  this  way  the  general  and 
collective  result  of  a  whole,  and  the  effects  produced  by 
it  on  other  objects,  may  be  vividly  impressed  on  the 
hearer's  mind ;  the  circumstantial  detail  of  collateral 
matters  not  drawing  off  the  mind  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  principal  matter  as  one  and  complete.  Thus, 
the  woman's  application  to  the  King  of  Samaria,  to 
compel  her  neighbour  to  fulfil  the  agreement  of  sharing 
with  her  the  infant's  flesh,  gives  a  more  frightful  im- 
pression of  the  horrors  of  the  famine  than  any  more 
direct  description  could  have  done ;  since  it  presents  to 
us  the  picture  of  that  hardening  of  the  heart  to  every 
kind  of  horror,  and  that  destruction  of  the  ordinary  state 
of  human  sentiment,  which  is  the  result  of  long  con- 
tinued and  extreme  misery.  Nor  could  any  detail  of 
the  particular  vexations  to  be  suffered  by  the  exiled 
Jews  for  their  disobedience,  convey  so  lively  an  idea  of 
them  as  that  description  of  their  result  contained  in  the 
denunciation  of  Moses :  "  In  the  evening  thou  shall 
say,  Would  God  it  were  morning !  and  in  the  morning 
thou  shalt  say,  Would  God  it  were  evening !" 

In  the  poem  of  Rokeby,  a  striking  exemplification 
occurs  of  what  has  been  said :  Bertram,  in  describing 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]       OF  PERSUASION.  153 

the  prowess  he  had  displayed  as  a  Buccaneer,  does  not 
particularise  any  of  his  exploits,  but  alludes  to  the 
terrible  impression  they  had  left : 

Panama's  mauls  shall  long  look  pale, 
When  Risingham  inspires  the  tale  .; 
Chili's  dark  matrons  long  shall  tame 
The  f toward  child  with  Bertram's  name. 

The  first  of  Dramatists,  who  might  have  been,  perhaps, 
the  first  of  Orators,  has  offered  some  excellent  exempli- 
fications of  this  rule ;  especially  in  the  speech  of  An- 
tony over  Caesar's  body. 

§  4.  Comparison  is  one  powerful  means  Compari- 
of  exciting  or  heightening  any  emotion  :  viz.  son- 
by  presenting  a  parallel  between  the  case  in  hand  and 
some  other  that  is  calculated  to  call  forth  such  emotions ; 
taking  care,  of  course,  to  represent  the  present  case  as 
stronger  than  the  one  it  is  compared  with,  and  such  as 
ought  to  affect  us  more  powerfully. 

When  several  successive  steps  of  this  kind  .. 

are  employed  to  raise  the  feelings  gradually  im 

to  the  highest  pitch,  (which  is  the  principal  employ 
ment  of  what  Rhetoricians  call  the  Climax/)  a  far 
stronger  effect  is  produced  than  by  the  mere  presenta- 
tion of  the  most  striking  object  at  once.  It  is  observed 
by  all  travellers  who  have  visited  the  Alps,  or  other 
stupendous  mountains,  that  they  form  a  very  inadequate 
notion  of  the  vastness  of  the  greater  ones,  till  they 
ascend  some  of  the  less  elevated,  (which  yet  are  huge 
mountains,)  and  thence  view  the  others  still  towering 
above  them.  And  the  mind,  no  less  than  the  eye, 
cannot  so  well  take  in  and  do  justice  to  any  vast  object 
at  a  single  glance,  as  by  several  successive  approaches 
and  repeated  comparisons.  Thus,  in  the  well-known 
Climax  of  Cicero  in  the  Oration  against  Verres,  shocked 
as  the  Romans  were  likely  to  be  at  the  bare  mention  of 

*  An  analogous  Arrangement  of  Arguments,  in  order  to  set  forth 
the  full  force  of  the  one  we  mean  to  dwell  upon,  would  also  receive 
the  same  appellation  ;  and  in  fact  is  very  often  combined  and  blend- 
ed with  that  wh'ch  is  fceo  spoken  of. 


154  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  Hi 

the  crucifixion  of  one  of  their  citizens,  the  successive 
steps  by  which  he  brings  them  to  the  contemplation  of 
such  an  event,  were  calculated  to  work  up  their  feel- 
ings to  a  much  higher  pitch  :  "  It  is  an  outrage  to  bind 
a  Roman  citizen  ;  to  scourge  him  is  an  atrocious  crime , 
to  put  him  to  death  is  almost  parricide  ;  but  to  crucify 
him — what  shall  J.  call  it  ?" 

It  is  observed,  accordingly,  by  Aristotle,  in  speaking 
of  Panegyric,  that  the  person  whom  we  would  hold  up 
to  admiration,  should  always  be  compared,  and  advan- 
tageously compared,  if  possible,  with  those  that  are 
already  ililustrious,  but  if  not,  at  least  with  some  person 
whom  he  excels :  to  excel,  being  in  itself,  he  says,  a 
ground  of  admiration.  The  same  rule  will  apply,  as 
has  been  said,  to  all  other  feelings  as  well  as  to  Admi- 
ration :  Anger,  or  Pity,  for  instance,  are  more  effectually 
excited  if  we  produce  cases  such  as  would  call  forth 
those  passions,  and  which,  though  similar  to  those  be- 
fore us,  are  not  so  strong ;  and  so  with  respect  to  the  rest. 

When  it  is  said,  however,  that  the  object  which  we 
compare  with  another,  introduced  for  the  purpose,  should 
be  one  which  ought  to  excite  the  feeling  in  question  in 
a  higher  degree  than  that  other,  it  is  not  meant  that  this 
must  actually  be,  already,  the  impression  oi  the  hear- 
ers :  the  reverse  will  more  commonly  be  the  case ;  that 
the  instances  adduced  will  be  such  as  actually  affect 
their  feelings  more  strongly  than  that  to  which  we  are 
endeavouring  to  turn  them,  till  the  flame  spreads,  as  it 
were,  from  the  one  to  the  other.  This  will  especially 
hold  good  in  every  case  where  self  is  concerned  ;  e.  g. 
men  feel  naturally  more  indignant  at  a  slight  affront 
offered  to  themselves,  or  those  closely  connected  with 
them,  than  at  the  most  grievous  wrong  done  to  a 
Granger ;  if,  therefore,  you  would  excite  their  utmost  in- 
dignation in  such  a  case,  it  must  be  by  comparing  ii  with 
a  parallel  case  that  concerns  themselves  ;  i.  e.  by  lead- 
ing them  to  consider  how  they  would  feel  were  such  and 
such  an  injury  done  to  themselves.     And,  on  the  other 


Chap.  II.  §  5.J       OF  PERSUASION.  156 

hand,  if  you  would  lead  them  to  a  j  ust  sense  of  their  own 
faults,  it  must  be  by  leading  them  to  contemplate  like 
faults  in  others  ;  of  which  the  celebrated  parable  of  Na- 
than, addressed  to  David,  affords  an  admirable  instance. 

It  often  answers  very  well  to  introduce  in  this  manner 
an  instance  not  only  avowedly  fictitious,  but  even  mani- 
festly impossible,  provided  it  be  but  conceivable.  A  case 
may  thus  be  exhibited  more  striking  and  apposite  than 
any  real  or  possible  one  that  could  be  found.  I  have 
•nserted  in  the  Appendix  some  examples  of  this  kind.* 

<$»  5  Another  Rule,  (which  also  is  con- 
nected  in  some  degree  with  style,)  relates  to  rating  and 
the  tone  of  feeling  to  be  manifested  by  the  extenuating 
writer  or  speaker  himself,  in  order  to  excite  methods- 
the  most  effectually  the  desired  emotions  in  the  minds 
of  the  hearers.  And  this  is  to  be  accomplished  by  two 
opposite  methods:  the  one,  which  is  the  more  obvious, 
is  to  express  openly  the  feeling  in  question  ;  the  other, 
to  seem  labouring  to  suppress  it :  in  the  former  method, 
the  most  forcible  remarks  are  introduced1 — the  most 
direct  as  well  as  impassioned  kind  of  description  is  em- 
ployed— and  something  of  exaggeration  introduced,  in 
order  to  carry  the  hearers  as  far  as  possible  in  the  same 
direction  in  which  the  Orator  seems  to  be  himseli 
hurried,  and  to  infect  them,  to  a  certain  degree,  with  the 
emotions  and  sentiments  which  he  thus  manifests  :  the 
other  method,  which  is  often  no  less  successful,  is  to 
abstain  from  all  remarks,  or  from  all  such  as  come  up 
to  the  expression  of  feeling  which  the  occasion  seems 
to  authorize — to  use  a  gentler  mode  of  expression  than 
the  case  might  fairly  warrant — to  deliver  "  an  unvar- 
nished tale,"  leaving  the  hearers  to  make  their  own 
comments — and  to  appear  to  stifle,  and  studiously  to 
keep  within  bounds  such  emotions  as  may  seem  natural. 
This  produces  a  kind  of  reaction  in  the  hearers'  minds: 
and  being  struck  with  the  inadequacy  of  the  expressions, 
end  the  studied  calmness  of  the  speaker's  manner  oi 
*  See  Appendix,  [K.1 


ib6  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Pakt  II 

stating  things,  compared  with  what  he  may  naturally  be 
supposed  to  feel,  they  will  often  rush  into  the  opposite 
extreme,  and  become  the  more  strongly  affected  by  that 
which  is  set  before  them  in  so  simple  and  modest  a  form. 
And  though  this  method  is  in  reality  more  artificial  than 
the  other,  the  artifice  is  the  more  likely  (perhaps  for 
that  very  reason)  to  escape  detection :  men  being  less 
on  their  guard  against  a  speaker  who  does  not  seem  so 
much  labouring  to  work  up  their  feelings,  as  to  repress 
or  moderate  his  own ;  provided  that  this  calmness  and 
coolness  of  manner  be  not  carried  to  such  an  extreme 
as  to  bear  the  appearance  of  affectation  ;  which  caution 
is  also  to  be  attended  to  in  the  other  mode  of  procedure 
no  less ;  an  excessive  hyperbolical  exaggeration  being 
likely  to  defeat  its  own  object.  Aristotle  mentions, 
(Rhet.  book  ix  )  though  very  briefly,  these  two  modes 
of  rousing  the  feelings,  the  latter  under  the  name  of 
Eironeia,  which  in  his  time  was  commonly  employed 
to  signify,  not  according  to  the  modern  use  of  "  Irony," 
saying  "  the  contrary  to  what  is  meant,"  but,  what 
later  writers  usually  express  by  Litotes,  i.  e.  "  saying 
less  than  is  meant." 

The  two  methods  may  often  be  both  used  on  the  same 
occasion,  beginning  with  the  calm,  and  proceeding  to 
the  impassioned,  afterwards,  when  the  feelings  of  the 
hearers  are  already  wrought  up  to  a  certain  pitch.* 
Universally,  indeed,  it  is  a  fault  carefully  to  be  avoid- 
ed, to  express  feelings  more  vehemently  than  that  the 
audience  can  go  along  with  the  speaker;  who  would, 
in  that  case,  as  Cicero  observes,  seem  like  one  raving 
among  the  sane,  or  intoxicated  in  the  midst  of  the  sober. 
And  accordingly,  except  where  from  extraneous  causes 
the  audience  are  already  in  an  excited  state,  we  must 
carry  them  forward  gradually,  and  allow  time  for  the 
(ire  to  kindle.  The  blast  which  would  heighten  a 
strong  flame,  would,  if  applied  too  soon,  extinguish  the 

*  "Orav  exn  i'l^n  robs  inpoards,  Kal  ito'iniay  Ivdovoidaia*  —  Aristotle, 
Rh't.  book.  iii.  ch.  7. 


Chap.  II.  §  5.]      OF  PERSUASION.  157 

Arst  faint  spark.  The  speech  of  Antony  over  Cesar's 
corpse,  which  has  been  already  mentioned,  affords  an 
admirable  exam;  'o  of  that  combination  of  the  two  me- 
thods which  has  just  been  spoken  of. 

Generally,  however  it  will  be  found  that  the  same 
orators  do  not  excel  equally  in  both  modes  of  exciting 
the  feelings ;  and  it  should  be  recommended  to  each  to 
employ  principally  that  in  which  he  succeeds  best ; 
since  either,  if  judiciously  managed,  will  generally  prove 
effectual  for  its  object.  The  well-known  tale  of  Inkle 
and  Yarico,  which  is  an  instance  of  the  extenuating 
method,  (as  it  may  be  called,)  could  not,  perhaps,  have 
been  rendered  more  affecting,  if  equally  so,  by  the  most 
impassioned  vehemence  and  rhetorical  heightening. 

in  no  point,  perhaps,  more  than  in  that  importance 
now  under  consideration,  is  the  importance  of  arrange- 
of  a  judicious  arrangement  to  be  perceived.  ment- 
The  natural  and  suitable  order  of  the  parts  of  a  dis- 
course (natural  it  maybe  called, because  corresponding 
with  that  in  which  the  ideas  suggest  themselves  to  the 
mind)  is,  that  the  statements  and  arguments  should  first 
be  clearly  and  calmly  laid  down  and  developed,  which 
are  the  ground  and  justification  of  such  sentiments  and 
emotions  as  the  case  calls  for ;  and  that,  then,  the  im- 
passioned appeal  (supposing  the  circumstances  such  as 
admit  of  or  demand  this)  should  be  made,  to  hearers 
well  prepared  by  their  previous  deliberate  conviction, 
for  resigning  themselves  to  such  feelings  as  fairly  arise 
out  of  that  conviction.  The  former  of  these  two  parts 
may  be  compared  to  the  back  of  a  sabre  ;  the  latter  to 
its  edge.  The  former  should  be  firm  and  weighty  ;  the 
latter  keen.  The  writer  who  is  deficient  in  strength  of 
Argument,  seems  to  want  weight  and  stoutness  of  me- 
tal ;  his  strokes  make  but  a  superficial  impression,  or 
the  weapon  is  shivered  to  fragments  in  his  hand.  He 
again,  whose  Logic  is  convincing,  but  whose  deficiency 
is  in  the  keenness  of  his  application  to  the  heart  and  to 
the  will  of  the  hearer,  seems  to  be  wielding  a  blunt 


163  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC      [Part  II 

though  ponderous  weapon  ;  we  wonder  to  find  that  such 
weighty  blows  have  not  cut  deeper.  And  he  who  re- 
verses the  natural  order — who  begins  with  a  vehement 
address  to  the  feelings,  and  afterwards  proceeds  to  the 
arguments  which  alone  justify  such  feelings,  reminds 
us  of  one  wielding  an  excellent  sword,  but  striking  with 
the  back  of  it :  if  he  did  but  turn  it  round,  its  blows 
would  take  effect. 

Diversion  §  6-  When  the  occasion  or  object  in  ques- 

of  feelings,  tion  is  not  such  as  calls  for,  or  as  is  likely 
to  excite  in  those  particular  readers  or  hearers,  the  emo- 
tions required,  it  is  a  common  rhetorical  artifice  to  turn 
their  attention  to  some  object  which  will  call  forth  these 
feelings  :  and  when  they  are  too  much  excited  to  be  ca- 
pable of  judging  calmly,  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  turn 
their  passions,  once  roused,  in  the  direction  required, 
and  to  make  them  view  the  case  before  them  in  a  very 
different  light.  When  the  metal  is  heated,  it  may  easily 
be  moulded  into  the  desired  form.  Thus,  vehement  in- 
dignation against  some  crime  may  be  directed  against  a 
person  who  has  not  been  proved  guilty  of  it ;  and  vague 
declamations  against  corruption,  oppression,  &c.  01 
against  the  mischiefs  of  anarchy ;  with  high-flown 
panegyrics  on  liberty,  rights  of  man,  &c.  or  on  social 
order,  justice,  the  constitution,  law,  religion,  &c.  will 
gradually  lead  the  hearer  to  take  for  granted,  without 
proof,  that  the  measure  proposed  will  lead  to  these  evils 
or  these  advantages ;  and  it  will  in  consequence  become 
the  object  of  groundless  abhorrence  or  admiration.  Fo. 
the  very  utterance  of  such  words  as  have  a  multitude 
of  what  may  be  called  stimulating  ideas  associated  with 
them,  will  operate  like  a  charm  on  the  minds,  especially 
of  the  ignorant  and  unthinking,  and  raise  such  a  tu- 
mult of  feeling  as  will  effectually  blind  their  judgment ; 
so  that  a  string  of  vague  abuse  or  panegyric,  will  often 
have  the  effect  of  a  train  of  sound  Argument.  This  arti- 
fice falls  under  the  head  of  "  Irrelevant  Conclusion,"  01 
ignoratio  elenchi,  mentioned  in  4iie  Treatise  on  Fallacies 


Chap.  III.  §  1.]     OF  PERSUASION.  lfi§ 


Chap.  IK. — Of  the  favourable  or  unfavourable  dispo- 
sition of  the  hearers  towards  the  Speaker  or  his 
opponent. 

§  1.  In  raising  a  favourable  impression  of  indirect 
the  speaker,  or  an  unfavourable  one  of  his  seif-com- 
opponent,  a  peculiar  tact  will  of  course  be  mendatlon- 
necessary;  especially  in  the  former,  since  direct  self- 
commendation  will  usually  be  disgusting,  to  a  greatei 
degree,  even  than  a  direct  personal  attack  on  another ; 
though,  if  the  Orator  is  pleading  his  own  cause,  or  one 
in  which  he  is  personally  concerned,  (as  was  the  case 
in  the  speech  of  Demosthenes  concerning  the  Crown,) 
a  greater  allowance  will  be  made  for  him  on  this  point ; 
especially  if  he.be  a  very  eminent  person,  and  one  who 
mav  safely  appeal  to  public  actions  performed  by  him. 
Thus  Pericles  is  represented  by  Thucydides  as  claiming, 
directly,  when  speaking  in  his  own  vindication,  exactly 
the  qualities  (good  Sense,  good  Principle,  and  Good- 
will) which  Aristotle  lays  down  as  constituting  the 
character  which  we  must  seek  to  appear  in.  But  then 
it  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  historian  represents  him  as 
accustomed  to  address  the  people  with  more  authority 
than  others  for  the  most  part  ventured  to  assume.  It 
is  by  the  expression  of  wise,  amiable,  and  generous 
Sentiments,  that  Aristotle  recommends  the  speaker  to 
manifest  his  own  character  ;*  but  even  this  must 
generally  be  done  in  an  oblique]  and  seemingly  inci- 
dental manner,  lest  the  hearers  be  disgusted  with  s 

*  When  (as  of  course  will  often  happen)  the  hearers  are  thus 
induced,  on  insufficient  grounds,  to  give  the  speaker  full  credit  for 
moral  excellence,  from  his  merely  uttering  the  language  of  it,  the 
fallacy  which  in  this  case  misleads  them  may  be  regarded  as  that  of 
undistributed  middle  :  "  a  good  man  would  speak  so  and  so  ;  the 
speaker  does  this  ;  therefore  he  must  be  a  good  man." 

\  E.  G.  "  It  would  be  needless  to  impress  upon  you  the  maxim," 
fcc.  "  You  cannot  be  ignorant,"  &c.  &c.  "  I  am  not  advancing 
any  high  pretensions  in  expressing  the  sentiments  which  sue!/  an 
occasion  must  call  forth  in  every  honest  heart,"  &c. 


160  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.        [Part  11 

pompous  and  studied  display  of  fine  sentiments ;  and 
care  must  also  be  taken  not  to  affront  them  by  seeming 
to  inculcate,  as  something  likely  to  be  new  te  them, 
maxims  which  they  regard  as  almost  truisms.  Of  course 
the  application  of  this  last  caution  must  vary  according 
to  the  character  of  the  persons  addressed ;  that  might 
excite  admiration  and  gratitude  in  one  audience,  which 
another  would  receive  with  indignation  and  ridicule. 
Most  men,  however,  are  disposed  rather  to  overrate  than 
to  extenuate  their  own  moral  judgment ;  or  at  least  to  be 
jealous  of  any  one's  appearing  to  underrate  it. 
Eloquence  Universally  indeed,  in  the  Arguments  used, 
relative.  as  we\\  as  in  the  appeals  made  to  the  feelings, 
a  consideration  must  be  had  of  the  hearers,  whether 
they  are  learned  or  ignorant — of  this  or  that  profession 
— nation — character,  &c.  and  the  address  must  be 
adapted  to  each ;  so  that  there  can  be  no  excellence  of 
writing  or  speaking,  in  the  abstract ;  nor  can  we  any 
more  pronounce  on  the  Eloquence  of  any  Composition, 
than  upon  the  wholesomeness  of  a  medicine,  without 
knowing  for  whom  it  is  intended.  The  less  enlightened 
the  hearers,  the  harder,  of  course,  it  is  to  make  them 
comprehend  a  long  and  complex  train  of  Reasoning ; 
so  that  sometimes  the  arguments,  in  themselves  the  most 
cogent,  cannot  be  employed  at  all  with  effect ;  and  the 
rest  will  need  an  expansion  and  copious  illustration 
which  would  be  needless,  and  therefore  tiresome,  (as 
has  been  above  remarked,)  before  a  different  kind  of 
audience.  On  the  other  hand,  their  feelings  may  be 
excited  by  much  bolder  and  coarser  expedients ;  such  as 
those  are  the  most  ready  to  employ,  and  the  most  likely 
to  succeed  in,  who  are  themselves  a  little  removed 
above  the  vulgar ;  as  may  be  seen  in  the  effec  ts  produced 
by  fanatical  preachers.  But  there  are  none  whose  feel- 
ings do  not  occasionally  need  and  admit  of  excitement 
by  the  powers  of  eloquence ;  only  there  is  a  mere 
exquisite  skill  required  in  thus  affecting  the  educated 
classes,  than  the  populace.     "  The  less  improved  in 


Chap.  III.  §  1.]      OF  PERSUASION.  i6l 

knowledge  and  discernment  the  hearers  are,  the  easier 
it  is  for  the  speaker  to  work  upon  their  passions,  and  by 
working  on  their  passions,  to  obtain  his  end.  This,  it 
must  be  owned,  appears  on  the  other  hand  to  give  a 
considerable  advantage  to  the  preacher ;  as  in  no  con- 
gregation can  the  bulk  of  the  people  be  regarded  as  on 
a  footing,  in  point  of  improvement,  with  either  House 
of  Parliament,  or  with  the  Judges  in  a  Court  of  Judica- 
ture. It  is  certain,  that  the  more  gross  the  hearers  are, 
(he  more  avowedly  may  you  address  yourself  to  their 
passions,  and  the  less  occasion  there  is  for  argument; 
whereas,  the  more  intelligent  they  are,  the  more  covertly 
must  you  operate  on  their  passions,  and  the  more  atten- 
tive must  you  be  in  regard  to  the  justness,  or  at  least 
the  speciousness,  of  your  reasoning.  Hence  some  have 
strangely  concluded,  that  the  only  scope  for  eloquence 
is  in  haranguing  the  multitude  ;  that  in  gaining  over  to 
your  purpose  men  of  knowledge  and  breeding,  the 
exertion  of  oratorical  talents  hath  no  influence.  This 
is  precisely  as  if  one  should  argue,  because  a  mob  is 
much  more  easily  subdued  than  regular  troops,  there  is 
no  occasion  for  the  art  of  war,  nor  is  there  a  proper 
field  for  the  exertion  of  military  skill,  unless  when  you 
are  quelling  an  undisciplined  rabble.  Every  body  sees, 
in  this  case,  not  only  how  absurd  such  a  way  of  argu- 
ing would  be,  but  that  the  very  reverse  ought  to  be  the 
conclusion.  The  reason  why  people  do  not  so  quickly 
perceive  the  absurdity  in  the  other  case,  is,  that  they 
affix  no  distinct  meaning  to  the  word  eloquence,  often 
denoting  no  more  by  that  term  than  simply  the  power 
of  moving  the  passions.  But  even  in  this  improper 
acceptation,  their  notion  is  far  from  being  just;  for 
wherever  there  are  men,  learned  or  ignorant,  civilized 
or  barbarous,  there  are  passions;  and  the  greater  the 
difficulty  is  in  affecting  these,  the  more  art  is  requisite.* 
It  may  be  added  to  what  Dr.  C.  has  here  remarked, 
that  the  title  of   eloquent  may  have  come  to  be  often 

•  Campbell's  Rhetoric,  b.  i.  ch.  x.  sec.  2,  pp.  2*24,  2 23 
13 


162  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  II 

limited  to  such  compositions  as  he  is  speaking  of,  from 
the  circumstance  that  their  eloquence  is  (to  readers  of 
cultivated  mind)  more  conspicuous.  That  which  affects 
our  own  feelings  is  not,  by  us,  at  the  time  at  least,  per 
ceived  to  be  eloquence.     See  note  to  the  next  section. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is,  as  has  been  said,  in  the  same 
degree  more  difficult  to  bring  the  uneducated  to  a  com- 
prehension of  the  arguments  employed;  and  this,  not 
only  from  their  reasoning-powers  having  less  general 
cultivation,  but  also,  in  many  instances,  from  their  ig- 
norance of  the  subject; — their  needing  to  be  informed  of 
the  facts,  and  to  have  the  principles  explained  to  them, 
on  which  the  argument  proceeds.  And  I  cannot  but 
think  that  the  generality  of  sermons  seem  to  pre-sup- 
pose  a  degree  of  religious  knowledge  in  the  hearers 
greater  than  many  of  them  would  be  found  on  exami- 
nation to  possess.  When  this  is  the  case,  the  most  an- 
gelic eloquence  must  be  unavailing  to  any  practical 
purpose. 

In  no  point  more  than  in  that  now  under  consideration, 
viz.  the  Conciliation  (to  adopt  the  term  of  the  Latin 
writers)  of  the  hearers,  is  it  requisite  to  consider  who 
and  what  the  hearers  are  ;  for  when  it  is  said  that  good 
Sense,  good  Principle,  and  Good-will,  constitute  the 
character  which  the  speaker  ought  to  establish  of  him- 
self, it  is  to  be  remembered  that  every  one  of  these  i3 
to  be  considered  in  reference  to  the  opinions  and  habits 
of  the  audience.  To  think  very  differently  from  hia 
hearers,  may  often  be  a  sign  of  the  Orator's  wisdom  and 
worth ;  but  they  are  not  likely  to  consider  it  so.  A 
witty  satirist*  has  observed,  that  "  it  is  a  short  way  to 
obtain  the  reputation  of  a  wise  and  reasonable  man, 
whenever  any  one  tells  you  his  opinion,  to  agree  with 
him."  Without  going  the  full  length  of  completely  act- 
ing on  this  maxim,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  remem- 
ber, that  in  proportion  as  the  speaker  manifests  hi* 
dissent  from  the  opinions  and  principles  of  his  audience 
*  Swift. 


Uuaf.  III.  §  1.]      OF  PERSUASION.  163 

so  far,  he  runs  the  risk  at  least  of  impairing  vheir  esti- 
mation of  his  judgment.  But  this  it  is  often  necessary 
to  do  when  any  serious  object  is  proposed ;  because  it 
will  commonly  happen  that  the  very  End  aimed  at  shall 
be  one  which  implies  a  change  of  sentiments,  or  even 
of  principles  and  character,  in  the  hearers. 

This  must  be  very  much  the  case  with  any  preacher 
of  the  Gospel ;  but  must  have  been  much  more  so  with 
its  first  promulgators.  "Christ  crucified"  was  "to 
the  Jews  a  stumbling-block,  and  to  the  Greeks,  foolish- 
ness." The  total  change  required  in  all  the  notions, 
habits,  and  systems  of  conduct  in  the  first  converts,  con- 
stituted an  obstacle  to  the  reception  of  the  new  religion, 
whicr.  ^o  other  that  has  prevailed  ever  had  to  contend 
with.  Txie  striking  contrast  which  Mahommedism  pre- 
sents, in  this  respect,  to  Christianity,  constitutes  the  ra- 
pid diffusion  of  the  two,  by  no  means  parallel  cases. 

Those  indeed  who  aim  only  at  popularity,  are  right 
in  conforming  their  sentiments  to  those  of  the  hearers, 
rather  than  the  contrary ;  but  it  is  plain  that  though  in 
this  way  they  obtain  the  greatest  reputation  for  Elo- 
quence, they  deserve  it  the  less  ;  it  being  much  easier 
according  to  the  tale  related  of  Mahomet,  to  go  to  the 
mountain,  than  to  bring  the  mountain  to  us.  "  Little 
force  is  necessary  to  push  down  heavy  bodies  placed  on 
the  verge  of  a  declivity ;  but  much  force  is  requisite  to 
stop  them  in  their  progress,  and  push  them  up.  If  a 
man  should  say,  that  because  the  first  is  more  frequent- 
ly effected  than  the  last,  it  is  the  best  trial  of  strength, 
and  the  only  suitable  use  to  which  it  can  be  applied,  we 
should  at  least  not  think  him  remarkable  for  distinct- 
ness in  his  ideas.  Popularity  alone,  therefore,  is  no 
lest  at  all  of  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker,  no  more  than 
velocity  alone  would  be,  of  the  force  of  the  external 
impulse  originally  given  to  the  body  moving.  As  in 
this  the  direction  of  the  body,  and  other  circumstances, 
must  be  taken  into  the  account ;  so,  in  that,  you  must 
cons/  ier  the  tendency  of  the  teaching,  whether  it  fa- 


164  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  II 

vours  or  opposes  the  vices  of  the  hearers.  To  head  a 
sect,  to  infuse  party  spirit,  to  make  men  arrogant,  un- 
charitable, and  malevolent,  is  the  easiest  task  imagina- 
ble, and  to  which  almost  any  blockhead  is  fully  equal. 
But  to  produce  the  contrary  effect,  to  subdue  the  spirit 
of  faction,  and  that  monster, spiritual  pride,  with  which 
it  is  invariably  accompanied,  to  inspire  equity,  modera- 
tion, and  charity  into  men's  sentiment's  and  conduct 
with  regard  to  others,  is  the  genuine  test  of  eloquence."* 
There  is  but  little  Eloquence  in  convincing  men  that 
they  are  in  the  right,  or  inducing  them  to  approve  a 
character  which  coincides  with  their  own. 
Difficul-  The  Christian  preacher  therefore  is  in  thia 

ties  of  a        respect  placed  in  a  difficult  dilemma ;  since 

Preacher.        J^  may  £e  sure  t^at  t}ie  }esg  fog  complies  with 

the  depraved  judgments  of  man's  corrupt  nature,  the  less 
acceptable  is  he  likely  to  be  to  that  depraved  judgment 
But  he  who  would  claim  the  highest  rank  as  an  Ora- 
tor, (to  omit  all  nobler  considerations,)  must  be  the  one 
who  is  the  most  successful,  not  in  gaining  popular  ap- 
plause, but  in  carrying  his  'point,  whatever  it  be.  The 
preacher,  however,  who  is  intent  on  this  object,  should 
use  all  such  precautions  as  are  not  inconsistent  with 
it,  to  avoid  raising  unfavourable  impressions  in  hia 
hearers.  Much  will  depend  on  a  gentle  and  concilia- 
tory manner ;  nor  is  it  necessary  that  he  should,  at 
once,  in  an  abrupt  and  offensive  form,  set  forth  all  the 
differences  of  sentiment  between  himself  and  his  con- 
gregation, instead  of  winning  them  over  by  degrees; 
and  in  whatever  point,  and  to  whatever  extent,  he  may 
suppose  them  to  agree  with  him,  it  is  allowable,  and 
for  that  reason  advisable,  to  dwell  on  that  agreement ; 
as  the  Apostles  began  every  address  to  the  Jews  by  an 
appeal  to  the  Prophets,  whose  authority  they  admitted ; 
and  as  Paul  opens  his  discourse  to  the  Athenians 
(though  unfortunately  the  words  of  our  translation  are 
likely  to  convey  an  opposite  idea)  by  a  commendation 

*  Campbell's  Rhetoric,  b.  i.  ch.  x.  sec.  5.  p.  239 


Chap.  III.  §  2.]       Off  PERSUASION  16<J 

of  their  respect  for  religion.*  And  above  all,  where 
censure  is  called  for,  the  speaker  should  avoid,  not 
merely  on  Christian,  but  also  on  rhetorical  principles, 
all  appearance  of  exultation  in  his  own  superiority — 
of  contempt — or  of  uncharitable  triumph  in  the  detec- 
tion of  faults  :  "  in  meekness,  instructing  them  that  op- 
pose themselves." 

Of  all  hostile  feelings,  Envy  is,  perhaps,  the  hardest 
to  be  subdued  ;  because  hardly  any  one  owns  it,  even 
to  himself ;  but  looks  out  for  one  pretext  after  another 
to  justify  his  hostility. 

§  2.  6f  intellectual  qualifications,  there  is  Danc,er  of 
one  which,  it  is  evident,  should  not  only  not  reputation 
be  blazoned  forth,  but  should  in  a  great  mea-  for  eio- 
sure  be  concealed,  or  kept  out  of  sight;  viz.  I"6110*3- 
rhetorical  skill;  since  whatever  is  attributed  to  the 
Eloquence  of  the  speaker,  is  so  much  deducted  from  the 
strength  of  his  cause.  Hence,  Pericles  is  represented 
by  Thucydides  as  artfully  claiming,  in  his  vindication 
of  himself,  the  power  of  explaining  the  measures  he 
proposes,  not,  Eloquence  in  persuading  their  adoption. f 
And  accordingly  a  skilful  orator  seldom  fails  to  notice 
and  extol  the  eloquence  of  his  opponent,  and  to  warn 
the  hearers  against  being  misled  by  it.  It  is  a  peculi- 
arity therefore  in  the  rhetorical  art,  that  in  it,  more 
than  in  any  other,  vanity  has  a  direct  and  immediate 
tendency  to  interfere  with  the  proposed  object.  Exces- 
sive vanity  may  indeed,  in  various  ways,  prove  an  im- 
pediment to  success  in  other  pursuits ;  but  in  the  endea- 
vour to  persuade,  all  wish  to  appear  excellent  in  that 
art,  operates  as  a  hindrance.  A  Poet,  a  Statesman,  or 
a  General,  &c.  though  extreme  covetousness  of  applause 
may  mislead  them,  will,  however,  attain  their  respec- 
tive Ends,  certainly  not  the  less  for  being  admired  as 
excellent,  in  Poetry,  Politics,  or  War :  but  the  Orator 

*  AeHnSainoreoTepjvs,  not  "  too  superstitious,"  but  (as  almost  all 
tommentators  are  now  agreed)  "  very  much  disposed  to  the  worship 
ti  Divine  Beings." 

t  See  the  Motto,  which  it  from  his  speech. 


166  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Tart  II, 

attains  his  End  the  better  the  less  he  is  regarded  as  an 
Orator ;  if  he  can  make  the  hearers  believe  that  he  is 
not  only  a  stranger  to  all  unfair  artifice,  but  even  des- 
titute of  all  persuasive  skill  whatever,  he  will  persuade 
them  the  more  effectually,*  and  if  there  ever  could  be 
an  absolutely  perfect  Orator,  no  one  would  (at  the  time 
at  least)  discover  that  he  was  so.f  And  this  considera- 
tion may  serve  to  account  for  the  fact  which  Cicero  re- 
marks upon  (De  Oratore,  book  i.)  as  so  inexplicable  ; 
viz.  the  small  number  of  persons  who,  down  to  his  time 
had  obtained  high  reputation  as  orators,  compared  with 
those  who  had  obtained  excellence  in  other  pursuits. 
Few  men  are  destitute*  of  the  desire  of  admiration  ;  and 
most  are  especially  ambitious  of  it  in  the  pursuit  to 
which  they  have  chiefly  devoted  themselves  ;  the  Ora- 
tor therefore  is  continually  tempted  to  sacrifice  the  sub- 
stance to  the  shadow,  by  aiming  rather  at  the  admira- 
tion of  the  hearers,  than  their  conviction ;  and  thus  to 
fail  of  that  excellence  in  his  art  which  he  might  other- 
wise be  well  qualified  to  attain,  through  the  desire  of  a 
reputation  for  it.  And  on  the  other  hand,  some  may 
have  been  really  persuasive  speakers  who  yet  may  not 

*  "lam  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is,"  &c.     Shaksp.  Julius  Cassar. 

t  The  following  passage  from  a  review  of  "  The  Heart  of  Mid- 
Lothian,"  coincides  precisely  with  what  has  here  been  remarked  : 
"  We  cannot  bestow  the  same  unqualified  praise  on  another  cele- 
brated scene,  Jeannie's  interview  with  Queen  Caroline.  Jeannie's 
pleading  appears  to  us  much  too  rhetorical  for  the  person  and  foi 
the  occasion  :  and  the  queen's  answer,  supposing  her  to  have  been 
overpowered  by  Jeannie's  entreaties,  '  This  is  eloquence,5  is  still 
worse.  Had  it  been  eloquence,  it  must  necessarily  have  been  un 
perceived  by  the  queen.  If  there  is  any  art  of  which  celare  artem 
is  the  basis,  it  is  this.  The  instant  it  peeps  out,  it  defeats  its  own 
object,  by  diverting  our  attention  from  the.  subject  to  the  speaker 
and  that,  with  a  suspicion  of  his  sophistry  equal  to  our  admiratior 
of  his  ingenuity.  A  man  who,  in  answer  to  an  earnest  address  to  the 
feelings  of  hig  hearer,  is  told,  '  you  have  spoken  eloquently,'  feels 
that  he  has  failed.  Efiie,  when  she  entreats  Sharpitlaw  to  allow  her 
to  see  her  sister,  is  eloquent ;  and  his  answer  accordingly  betraj-8 
perfect  unconsciousness  that  she  has  been  so  ;  *  You  shall  see  your 
sister,'  he  began,  '  if  you'll  tell  me  ' — then  interrupting  himself,  he 
added  in  a  more  hurried  tone,  'no,  you  shall  see  your  sister, 
•whether  you  tell  me  or  no.' "     Quarterly  Review,  No.  Li.  p.  1 18 


Chap.  HI.  §  2.]      OF  PERSUASION.  167 

have  ranked  high  in  men's  opinion,  and  may  not  have 
been  known  to  possess  that  art  of  which  they  gave  proof 
by  their  skilful  concealment  of  it.  There  is  no  point, 
in  short,  in  which  report  is  so  little  to  be  trusted. 

If  I  were  asked  to  digress  a  little  from  my  Piudent 
subject,  and  to  say  what  I  should  recommend  and  con- 
in  point  of  morality  and  of  prudence,  to  the     scientious 

<-,     ri  ttt  • ,    J         n  .      ,i  i  i  course. 

Speaker  or  Writer,  and  to  those  whom  he 
addresses  with  respect  to  the  precept  just  given,  I  should 
in  reply,  counsel  him  who  wishes  to  produce  a  perma- 
nent effect,  (for  1  am  not  now  adverting  to  the  case  of 
a  barrister,)  to  keep  on  the  side  of  what  he  believes  to 
be  truth ;  and,  avoiding  all  sophistry,  to  aim  only  at 
setting  forth  that  truth  as  strongly  as  possible,  (com- 
bating of  course,  any  unjust  personal  prejudice  against 
himself,)  without  any  endeavour  to  gain  applause  for 
his  own  abilities.  If  he  is  himself  thoroughly  con- 
vinced, and  strongly  impressed,  and  can  keep  clear  of  the 
seductions  of  vanity,  he  will  be  more  likely  in  this  way 
to  gain  due  credit  for  the  strength  of  his  cause,  than  by 
yielding  to  a  feverish  anxiety  about  the  opinion  that 
others  may  form  of  him.  And  as  I  should  of  course 
advise  the  reader  or  hearer  to  endeavour,  in  each  case, 
to  form  his  judgment  according  to  the  real  and  valid 
arguments  urged,  and  to  regulate  his  feelings  and  sen- 
timents according  to  what  the  case  justly  calls  for,  so, 
with  a  view  to  this  end,  I  would  suggest  these  two 
cautions ;  first,  to  keep  in  mind  that  there  is  danger  of 
over-rating  as  well  as  of  under-rating  the  eloquence  of 
what  is  said  ;  and  that  to  attribute  to  the  skill  of  the 
advocate  what  really  belongs  to  the  strength  of  his 
cause,  is  just  as  likely  to  lead  to  error  as  the  opposite 
mistake :  and  secondly,  to  remember  that  when  the 
feelings  are  strongly  excited,  they  are  not  necessarily 
over-excited :  it  may  be  that  they  are  only  brought  into 
the  state  which  the  occasion  fully  justifies ;  or  even 
that  they  still  fall  short  of  this.* 

*  Seo  Part  ii.  chap.  1.  §ii. 


168  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [PA*r  U. 

A  character  §  3.  Of  the  three  points  which  Aristotle 
v[ilgas°\veil  directs  tne  01'ator  to  claim  credit  for,  it  might 
as  integrity  seem  at  first  sight  that  one,  viz.  "  Good- 
requisite,  will,"  is  unnecessary  to  be  mentioned ;  since 
Ability  and  Integrity  would  appear  to  comprehend,  in 
most  cases  at  least,  all  that  is  needed.  A  virtuous  man, 
it  maybe  said,  must  wish  well  to  his  countrymen,  or  to 
any  persons  whatever  whom  he  may  be  addressing. 
But  on  a  more  attentive  consideration,  it  will  be  manifest 
that  Aristotle  had  good  reason  for  mentioning  this  head. 
If  the  speaker  were  believed  to  wish  well  to  his  Country, 
and  to  every  individual  of  it,  yet  if  he  were  suspected 
of  being  unfriendly  to  the  political  or  other  Party  to 
which  his  hearers  belonged,  they  would  listen  to  him 
with  prejudice.  The  abilities  and  the  conscientiousness 
of  Phocion  seem  not  to  have  been  doubted  by  any ;  but 
these  were  so  far  from  gaining  him  a  favourable  hear- 
ing among  th'-  Democratical  party  at  Athens,  (who 
knew  him  \j  be  no  friend  to  Democracy,)  that  they 
probably  distrusted  him  the  more ;  as  one  whose  public 
spirit  would  induce  him,  and  whose  talents  might 
enable  him,  to  subvert  the  existing  Constitution. 

Party-spirit.  ®nQ  °^  tne  most  Poweriul  engines,  accord- 
ingly, of  the  orator,  is  this  kind  of  appeal 
to  party-spirit.  Party-spirit  may,  indeed  be  considered 
in  another  point  of  view,  as  one  of  the  Passions  which 
may  be  directly  appealed  to,  when  it  can  be  brought  to 
operate  in  the  direction  required ;  i.  e.  when  the  con- 
duct the  writer  or  speaker  is  recommending  appears 
likely  to  gratify  party-spirit;  but  it  is  the  indirect 
appeal  to  it  which  is  now  under  consideration ;  viz. 
the  favour,  credit,  and  weight  which  the  speaker  will 
derive  from  appearing  to  be  of  the  same  pajty  with  the 
hearers,  or  at  least  not  opposed  to  it.  And  this  is  a 
sort  of  credit  which  he  may  claim  more  openly  and 
avowedly  than  any  other;  and  he  may  likewise  throw 
discredit  on  his  opponent  in  a  less  offensive,  but  not 
less  effectual  manner.     A  man  cannot  say  in  direct 


Chap.  III.  §  3.]      OF  PERSUASION.  169 

terms,  "Iaraa  wise  and  worthy  man,  and  my  adver- 
sary the  reverse;"  but  he  is  allowed  to  say,  "I  adhere 
to  the  principles  of  Mr.  Pitt  or  of  Mr.  Fox  ;"  "lama 
friend  to  Presbyterianism  or  to  Episcopacy,"  (as  the 
case  may  be,)  and  "  my  opponent,  the  reverse;"  which 
is  not  regarded  as  an  offence  against  modesty,  and  yet 
amounts  virtually  to  as  strong  a  self-commendation, 
and  as  decided  vituperation,  in  the  eyes  of  those  imbued 
with  party. spirit,  as  if  every  kind  of  merit  and  of 
demerit  had  been  enumerated  :  for  to  zealous  party-men, 
zeal  for  their  party  will  very  often  either  imply,  or  stand 
as  a  substitute  for,  every  other  kind  of  worth. 

Hard,  indeed,  therefore  is  the  task  of  him  whose 
object  is  to  counteract  party-spirit,  and  to  soften  the 
violence  of  those  prejudices  which  spring  from  it.*"  His 
only  resource  must  be  to  take  care  that  he  give  no 
ground  for  being  supposed  imbued  with  the  violent  and 
unjust  prejudices  of  the  opposite  party — that  he  give  his 
audience  credit,  (since  it  rarely  happens  but  that  each 
party  has  some  tenets  that  are  reasonable,)  for  whatever 
there  may  be  that  deserves  praise — that  he  proceed  gra- 
dually and  cautiously  in  removing  the  errors  with  which 
they  are  infected- — and  above  all,  that  he  studiously  dis- 
claim and  avoid  the  appearance  of  any  thing  like  a 
feeling  of  personal  hostility,  or  personal  contempt. 

[f  the  orator's  character  can  be  sufficiently  a  character 
established  in  respect  of  Ability,  and  also  of  lor  integri- 
Good-will  towards  the  hearers,  it  might  at  ty  re(iuisite- 
first  sight  appear  as  if  this  would  be  sufficient ;  since 
the  former  of  these  would  imply  the  Power,  and  the 
latter  the  Inclination,  to  give  the  best  advice,  whatever 
might  be  his  Moral  character.     But  Aristotle  (in  his 

*  "  Of  all  the  prepossessions  in  the  minds  of  the  hearers,  which 
tend  to  impede  or  counteract  the  design  of  the  speaker,  party-spirit, 
where  it  happens  to  prevail,  is  the  most  pernicious  :  being  at  once 
the  most  inflexible,  and  the  most  unjust.  *  *  *  *  Violent  party-men 
not  only  lose  all  sympathy  with  those  of  the  opposite  side,  but  even 
contract  an  antipathy  to  them.  This,  on  some  occasions,  even  taa 
dirinest  eloquence  wiAl  not  surmount." — Campbell's  Rhetoric 
14 


170  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  II 

Politics)  justly  remarks  thai  this  last  is  also  requisite 

to  be  insisted  on,  in  order  to  produce  entire  confidence : 
;  e,  though  a  man  cannot  be  suspected  oj 
wanting  Good- will  towards  himadf,  ye!  man] 
men  acl  mosl  absurdly*  even  in  their  own  af&irs,  foi 
want  of  Moral  virtue ;  being  either  blinded  or  overcome 
by  their  Passioi  to  sacrifice  their  own  moa 

important  interests  to  their  present  gratification  ;  and 
much  more,  therefore,  maj  they  be  expected  to  be  thus 
seduced  by  persona]  temptations,  in  the  advice  they 
give  to  others,  Pericles,  accordingly,  in  the  speech 
which  has  been  already  referred'  to,  is  represented  by 
Phucydides  as  insisting  nol  only  on  his  political  ability 
ami  his  patriotism,  but  also  on  Ins  unimpeai 

a  a  qualification  absolutely  necessarj  to  entitle 
him  to  then-  confidence  ;  "  tor  the  man.'*  sa]  a  he,  "  w  ho 
I  i  \<tv  other  requisite,  but  is  overcome  by  the 

temptation  of  interest,  will  be  ready  to  sell  i  ■ 
for  the  gratification  oi  his  avarice. M 

Prom  what  has  been   said  of  the 

',nt-  Speaker's  recommendation  ol  himself  to  the 
audience,  and  establishment  oi  his  authority  with  them, 

sufficient  rules  may  readily  he  deduced  for  the  analo- 

umu^  process  the  depreciation  of  an  opponent  Both 
oi  these,  and  especially  the  latter,  under  the  oft 

title  oi  personal /'if.  are  by  many  indiscriminately  <:., 
as  unfair  rhetorical  tricks:  and  doubtless  they  are,  in 
the  majority  oi  cases.  BOphistically  employed  :   anil  by 
none  more  effectually  than  by  those  w  ho  are  perpetu- 
ally  declaiming  against  sue  h  \\  the  unthinking 

hearers  not  being  prepared  any  from 

who  represent  th<  as  holding  them  in  such  ab- 

horrent surely  it  is  not  in  itself  an  unfair  topic 

oi  argument,  in  cases  not  admitting  of  decisive  and  un- 
DUesUonable  proof, to  urge  that  the  one  party  deserves 
the  hearurs' confidence,  or  that  the  other  is  justly  an 
object  of  their  distrust.     "If  the  measun 
one,"  it  has  been  said,  "  will  it  become  bad  because  it 


<:*Ar   MI   ',  4  |       OF  I'll:'  i    v<  hi  ,7I 

m  lupporti  'i  b)  ••  bad  "'.in I  ii  iii   bad,  ■•  ill  11  ha  o  nu 

|'«"  "I     f)l  I    "l    '        ■  l  |  >  | «'  »r  1«-<|     liy    .1    j .1    in .in    '         I'll,,     mm  .i 

■  nu  |)i   I.  ..ii;  mm  i  pi  iii.  iii  ■■  h ■,  nol  -11  om  i    how  thai 
It  ii  id       \  ""i  produi  ing  it"  •  irri  Ii  •  ani  and  Im  on 

•  In    iv<      .n  ■in, i.  ill  I,    iii     Ii.  ii    .,1     .In.  .  I     ..ii.    ■.   III. Mii-I I 

i   Kill.   I.   Ill     l.i    |||.,\  r    lll.ll     III.      III.  .1     Ml.       ',  .Ml     ll,M       OppQ     I      I   I 

I  i  JmiI.         |fl    |M-r.  <     l||.,|    \  mm    \  <mii     <  II     ii 

gard  it  a    •'  | i  '""  "     Nmw  io  iii  <  ihu    foi  grant*  .i. 

ill.,  I   p    Ifl     (  .     !  ...  [||    ■     I       I        .        .11  ;■    MUM     III     |    if)      |.     ..'     -        .1      III.    .1 

;  mi.     I,.,.  I  .,1    good,  « r  i  - 1  *  |m  ii<  I.  ill  <>l   .ill  <  .,ii    i.l.  i.,I|.,ii  .,1    llir 

1 1.  ii.,.  i.i  .,i  ii  .,,!■. ...  .ii.   . .  ould  i"  found)  and  al  o<  ould 

l.<     im.mI.-    ,/,,i,     (0  llu    00]    ....      ,1,1,1,,     qd    ,      .i    I.,., mi.     I 

i" nu  "i  ii..   .jn.  iijon     'I  I"  re  I    nd  ddubl  thai  the 

i-<  I.,  i . 1 1 1 1  y  i,i  km  ii  mm    too  much  di  i I  Id  considei 

i.i.,i<    nil,,  pmpo  i    h  ""  •'  "!■ .  Mi. hi  what  ll  i  I  that  ii 
propo  it  'i    (and  probabl  v  ■••  ould  i  ontinui  todd  ■  ■■ 
iiimI.i  .i    j  i<  in  oi  annual  Pai  liami  hi  i  and  uni  •  ■  i  al 

•.iilli.r-i     ,    .,,,.1  i|  .,   ••.  eh  mi,:-    I.,    a  ivcrt    |:'  mm    l  .in  .     ci 

•  !•..- 1,  in i.  ii-  t  to  iin   ■  .1-,  ',i  judging  ii  i   H  -i  idnnbli .  -'"'i 
m.iy  in-  M  <  i n I    i mm    I,. mi i, i  any  one  eacapi  censure  whd 

i  m,ii  in  .  iii  i  ii  iii  to  i  in  ii  topii  i,  or  d  waifs  principally  on 
iin  hi.  iii  .  ..I  :  "in  ii-  •■  dlfi  1 1    argunij  nl   bm  to  bi  i  • 
pi .  i.  ,i   but  thi  v  an  ndl  to  bi  <  ondi  mm  (|  in  totoe      lrr< 
i, ,,i  I,,,  .,ni  in  I-. .  .  .,n  iii.  ground  thai  that  ar<  only 
probable,  -""i  nol  in  themselves  deci si v<     ii  I    onl)  in 
iii.,i'«  i  of  itricl   '  iem  •  .  and  thai  loo,  in  arguing  to  cii  n 
i, in  men,  thai  the  i  harai  U  i  ol  tin  adi  o<  al<  i  (as  Will  ah 
.■ll  (iiii.i  probable  Arguments) ihduld  be  ••  holly  pul  oul 
oj  the  uuc  ilion     I   ever)  on<  i  hargi  abh  with  vi  al  ni    ■ 

•  m  .j,  in. hi-,   ••.  hd  bi  Iii  '.i     iii.ii  (hi  earth  mo\ *    f,<nt<\ 
ii,.      in,.  ,,i,  id.    mhiIkm ii y  ol   ."••  tronomi  i  i    "•  ithoul 

I,..-.  In  a  him  ell  n  ii  "li1"  all)  th  mon  tratid  H  ' 

An. i  ii  1 1  i<  marl  abli  thai  tin  m  o    it\  di  el ti  el 

allowing  •  omi  ••■  eighl  td  thi    i  on  id<  ration 

in  politn al  matU  i  .  im  reasei  in  proportion  ,„','!  .',',,  ""' 

n    .in y  country  enjo)    a  fret    ■••,,, mn,  ,,i  ■■ ...  i  ...,r...i 

ll  ..ii  the  powii  be  ."  the  hand   oi  ••  U     oi  gj  .';;_  '"" 
Oj'-  high* '  ofdt '  .  ■■••  ho  bavi  the  oppoftunit) 


172  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  II 

at  least,  of  obtaining  education,  it  is  conceivable, 
whether  probable  or  not,  that  they  may  be  brought 
to  try  each  proposed  measure  exclusively  on  its  intrin- 
sic merits, by  abstract  arguments;  but  can  any  man,  in 
his  senses,  really  believe  that  the  great  mass  of  the 
people,  or  even  any  considerable  portion  of  them,  can 
ever  possess  so  much  political  knowledge.,  patience  in 
investigation,  and  sound  Logic,  (to  say  nothing  of  can- 
dour,) as  to  be  able  and  willing  to  judge,  and  to  judge 
correctly,  of  every  proposed  political  measure,  in  the 
abstract,  without  any  regard  to  their  opinion  of  the  per- 
sons who  propose  it  ?  And  it  is  evident,  that  in  every 
case  in  which  the  hearers  are  not  completely  competent 
judges,  they  not  only  will,  but  must,  take  into  conside- 
ration the  characters  of  those  who  propose,  support,  or 
dissuade  any  measure  ; — the  persons  they  are  connected 
with — the  designs  they  may  be  supposed  to  entertain, 
&c.  ;  though,  undoubtedly,  an  excessive  and  exclusive 
regard  to  Persons  rather  than  Arguments,  is  one  of  the 
chief  Fallacies  against  which  men  ought  to  be  cautioned. 
But  if  the  opposite  mode  of  judging  in  every  case 
were  to  be  adopted  without  limitation,  it  is  plain  that 
children  could  not  be  educated.  Indeed,  happily  for  the 
world,  most  of  them,  who  should  be  allowed  to  proceed 
on  this  plan,  would,  in  consequence,  perish  in  childhood. 
A  pious  Christian,  again,  has  the  same  implicit  reliance 
on  his  God,  even  where  unable  to  judge  of  the  reason- 
ableness of  his  commands  and  dispensations,  as  a  duti- 
ful and  affectionate  child  has  on  a  tender  parent.  Now,, 
though  such  a  man  is  of  course  regarded  by  an  Atheist 
as  weak  and  absurd,  it  is  surely  on  account  of  his  be- 
lief, not  of  his  consequent  conduct,  that  he  is  so  regarded. 
Even  Atheists  would  in  general  admit  that  he  is  acting 
reasonably,  on  the  supposition  that  there  is  a  God,  who 
has  revealed  Himself  to  man. 
Authority  §  5.  In  no  way,  perhaps,  are  men,  not  bi- 

^riVoesdedex.    o0ted  t0  Part^'  m0re  likely  t0  be  misled  ty 

perience. eX"  their  favourable  or  unfavourable  judgmen' 


Chap  III.  §  5.]       OF  PERSUASION  173 

of  their  advisers,  than  in  what  relates  to  the  authority 
derived  from  Experience.  Not  that  Experience  ought 
not  to  be  allowed  to  have  great  weight:  hut  that 
men  are  apt  not  to  consider  with  sufficient  attention, 
what  it  is  that  constitutes  Experience  in  each  point ; 
so  that  frequently  one  man  shall  have  credit  for  much 
experience,  in  what  relates  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
another,  who,  perhaps,  possesses  as  much,  or  more, 
shall  be  underrated  as  wanting  it.  The  vulgar,  of  all 
ranks,  need  to  be  warned,  first,  that  time  alone  does 
not  constitute  Experience :  so  that  many  years  may 
have  passed  over  a  man's  head,  without  his  even 
having  had  the  same  opportunities  of  acquiring  it  as 
another,  much  younger;  secondly,  that  the  longest 
practice  in  conducting  any  business  in  one  way,  does 
not.  necessarily  confer  any  Experience  in  conducting 
it  in  a  different  way :  e.  g.  an  experienced  Husbandman, 
or  Minister  of  State,  in  Persia,  would  be  much  at  a  loss 
in  Europe ;  and  if  they  had  some  things  less  to  learn 
than  an  entire  novice,  on  the  other  hand  they  would 
have  much  to  unlearn :  and,  thirdly,  that  merely  being 
conversant  about  a  certain  class  of  subjects,  does  not 
confer  Experience  in  a  case,  where  the  Operations  and, 
the  End  proposed,  are  different  It  is  said  that  there 
was  an  Amsterdam  merchant,  who  had  dealt  largely 
in  corn  all  his  life,  who  had  never  seen  a  field  of  wheat 
growing ;  this  man  had  doubtless  acquired  by  Experi- 
ence, an  accurate  judgment  of  the  qualities  of  each  de- 
scription of  corn — of  the  best  methods  of  storing  it — of 
the  arts  of  buying  and  selling  it  at  proper  times,  &c. ; 
but  he  would  have  been  greatly  at  loss  in  its  cultiva- 
tion ;  though  he  had  been,  in  a  certain  way,  long  con- 
versant about  eorn.  Nearly  similar  is  the  Experience 
of  a  practised  Lawyer,  (supposing  him  to  be  nothing 
more,)  in  a  case  of  Legislation ;  because  he  has  been 
long  conversant  about  Law,  the  unreflecting  atU-Hute 
great  weight  to  his  legislative  judgment ;  wherea  his 
constant  habits  of  fixing  his  thoughts  on  what  the      •* 


174  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Pabt  II 

is,  and  withdrawing  it  from  the  irrelevant  question  oi 
what  the  law  ought  to  be  ; — his  careful  observance  of 
a  multitude  of  rules,  (which  afford  the  more  scope  foi 
the  display  of  his  skill,  in  proportion  as  they  are  arbi- 
trary, unreasonable,  and  unaccountable,)  with  a  studied 
indifference  as  to  that  which  is  foreign  from  his  busi- 
ness, the  convenience  or  inconvenience  of  those  Rules, 
— may  be  expected  to  operate  unfavourably  on  his  judg- 
ment in  questions  of  Legislation :  and  are  likely  ta 
counterbalance  the  advantages  of  his  superior  know- 
ledge, even  in  such  points  as  do  bear  on  the  question. 

In  matters  connected  with  Political- economy,  the  ex- 
perience of  practical  men  is  often  appealed  to  in  opposi- 
tion to  those  who  are  called  Theorists ;  even  though 
the  latter  perhaps  are  deducing  conclusions  from  a  wide 
induction  of  facts,  while  the  experience  of  the  others 
will  often  be  found  only  to  amount  to  their  having  been 
long  conversant  with  the  details  of  office,  and  having 
all  that  time  gone  on  in  a  certain  beaten  track,  from 
which  they  never  tried,  or  witnessed,  or  even  imagined, 
a  deviation. 

So  also  the  authority  derived  from  experience  of  a 
practical  Miner — i,  e.  one  who  has  wrought  all  his  life 
in  one  mine — will  sometimes  delude  a  speculator  into 
a  vain  search  for  metal  or  coal,  against  the  opinion  per- 
haps of  Theorists,  i.  e.  persons  of  extensive  geological 
observation. 

"  It  may  be  added,  that  there  is  a  proverbial  maxim 
which  bears  witness  to  the  advantage  sometimes  pos- 
sessed by  an  observant  by-stander  over  those  actually 
engaged  in  any  transaction.  '  The  looker-on  often  seea 
more  of  the  game  than  the  players.'  Now  the  looker- 
on  is  precisely  (in  Greek  Qeopbg)  the  Theorist. 

"When  then  you  find  anyone  contrasting,  in  this 
and  in  other  subjects,  what  he  calls  experience,  with 
theory,  you  will  usually  perceive  on  attentive  exami- 
nation, that  he  is  in  reality  comparing  the  results  of  y 
confined  with  that  of  a  wider,  experience ; — a  more  im. 


Chap.  III.  §  5.]      OF  PERSUASION.  175 

perfect  and  crude  theory,  with  one  more  cautiously 
framed,  and  based  on  a  more  copious  induction."* 

The  consideration  then  of  the  character  of  the  speak- 
er, and  of  his  opponent,  being  of  so  much  importance, 
both  as  a  legitimate  source  of  Persuasion,  in  many  instan- 
ces, and  also  as  a  topic  of  Fallacies,  it  is  evidently  in- 
cumbent on  the  orator  to  be  well  versed  in  this  branch 
of  the  art,  with  a  view  both  to  the  justifiable  advance- 
ment of  his  own  cause,  and  to  the  detection  and  expo- 
sure of  unfair  artifice  in  an  opponent.  It  is  neither 
possible,  nor  can  it  in  justice  be  expected,  that  this 
mode  of  persuasion  should  be  totally  renounced  and  ex- 
ploded, great  as  are  the  abuses  to  which  it  is  liable ;  but 
the  speaker  is  bound,  in  conscience,  to  abstain  from 
those  abuses  himself ;  and,  in  prudence,  to  be  on  his 
guard  against  them  in  others. 

To  enumerate  the  various  kinds  of  impres-  charge  of 
sions  favourable  and  unfavourable,  that  inconsis 
hearers  or  readers  may  entertain  concerning  tencT- 
any  one,  would  be  tedious  and  superfluous.  But  it  may 
be  worth  observing,  that  a  charge  of  inconsistency ,as  it 
is  one  of  the  most  disparaging,  is  also  one  that  is  per- 
haps the  most  frequently  urged  with  effect,  on  insuffi- 
cient grounds.  Strictly  speaking,  inconsistency  (such 
at  least  as  a  wise  and  good  man  is  exempt  from)  is  the 
maintaining  at  the  same  time  two  contradictory  proposi- 
tions ;  whether  expressed  in  language,  or  implied  in 
sentiments  or  conduct.  As  e.  g.  if  an  author,f  in  an 
argumentative  work,  while  he  represents  every  syllo- 
gism as  futile  and  fallacious  reasoning,  admits  that  all 
reasoning  may  be  exhibited  in  the  form  of  syllogisms ; 
or,  if  the  same  person  who  censures  and  abhors 
oppression,  yet  practises  it  towards  others;  or  if  a 
man  prescribes  two  medicines  which  neutralize  each 
other's  effects,  &c 

But  a  man  is  often  censured  as  inconsistent,  if  fa« 

•  See  Political-Economy,  Lect.  Hi.  p.  63. 
t  Dr.  Stewart. 


176  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  tl 

Different  ohanges  his  plans  or  his  opinions  on  any 
notions  of  point.  And  certainly  if  he  does  this  often, 
mconsis-  ancj  lightly,  that  is  good  ground  for  withhold 
ing  confidence  from  him.  But  it  would  be 
more  precise  to  characterize  him  asjickk  and  unsteady. 
than  as  i7iconsistent ;  because  this  use  of  the  term  tends 
to  confound  one  fault  with  another;  viz.  with  the  hold 
in^of  two  incompatible  opinions  at  once. 

But,  moreover,  a  man  is  often  charged  with  inconsis 
tency  for  approving  some  parts  of  a  book — system — 
character,  &c.  and  disapproving  others  ; — for  being  now 
an  advocate  for  peace,  and  now,  for  war  ; — in  short,  for 
accommodating  his  judgment  or  his  conduct  to  the  cir- 
cumstances before  him,  as  the  mariner  sets  his  sails  to 
the  wind.  In  this  case  there  is  not  even  any  change  of 
mind  implied ;  yet  for  this  a  man  is  often  taxed  with 
inconsistency ;  though  in  many  instances  there  would 
even  be  an  inconsistency  in  the  opposite  procedure  ;  e.  g. 
in  not  shifting  the  sails,  when  the  wind  changes. 

In  the  other  case  indeed — when  a  man  does  change 
his  mind — he  implies  some  error,  either  first  or  last. 
But  some  errors  every  man  is  liable  to,  who  is  not  in- 
fallible. He,  therefore,  who  prides  himself  on  his  con- 
sistency, on  the  ground  of  resolving  never  to  change  his 
plans  or  opinions,  does  virtually  (unless  he  means  to 
proclaim  himself  either  too  dull  to  detect  his  mistakes, 
or  too  obstinate  to  own  them)  lay  claim  to  infallibility. 
And  if  at  the  same  time  he  ridicules  (as  is  often  done) 
the  absurdity  of  a  claim  to  infallibility,  he  is  guilty  of 
a  gross  inconsistency  in  the  proper  and  primary  sense 
of  the  word. 

But  it  is  much  easier  to  boast  of  consistency  than  to 
preserve  it.  For,  as,  in  the  dark,  or  in  a  fog,  adverse 
troops  may  take  post  near  each  other,  without  mutual 
recognition,  and  consequently  without  contest,  but  as 
soon  as  daylight  comes,  the  weaker  give  place  to  the 
stronger ;  so,  in  a  misty  and  daikened  mind,  the  most 
"ncompatible  opinions  may  exist  together,  without  any 


tfHAP.  III.  §  6.]     OF  PERSUASION  177 

perception  of  their  discrepancy ;  till  the  understanding 
becomes  sufficiently  enlightened  to  enable  the  man  to 
reject  the  less  reasonable  opinions,  and  retain  the  op- 
posites. 

It  may  be  added,  that  it  is  a  very  fair  ground  for  dis- 
paraging any  one's  judgment,  if  he  maintains  any  doc- 
trine or  system,  avowedly  for  the  sake  of  consistency. 
Thai  must  always  be  a  bad  reason.  If  the  system,  &c. 
is  right,  you  should  pursue  it  because  it  is  right,  and 
not  because  you  have  pursued  it  hitherto  ;  if  it  is  wrong, 
your  having  once  committed  a  fault  is  a  poor  reason  to 
give  for  persisting  in  it. 

It  only  remains  to  observe,  on  this  head,  that  (as 
Aristotle  teaches)  the  place  for  the  disparagement  of  an 
opponent  is,  for  the  first  speaker,  near  the  close  of  his 
discourse,  to  weaken  the  force  of  what  may  be  said  in 
reply ;  and,  for  the  opponent,  near  the  opening,  to  les- 
sen the  influence  of  what  has  been  already  said. 

§  6.  Either  a  personal  prejudice,  such  as 
has  been  just  mentioned,  or  some  other  pas-  SJie^pas 
sion  unfavourable  to  the  speaker's  object,  sionstobe 
may  already  exist  in  the  minds  of  the  hear-  allayed  or 

i  •   x.   •«.  i.  i      i  •     i.  a        n  diverted. 

ers,  which  it  must  be  his  business  to  allay. 

It  is  obvious  that  this  will  the  most  effectually  be 
done,  not  by  endeavouring  to  produce  a  state  of  perfect 
calmness  and  apathy,  but  by  exciting  some  contrary 
emotion.  And  here  it  is  to  be  observed  that  some  pas- 
sions may  be,  rhetorically  speaking,  opposite  to  each 
other,  though  in  strictness  they  are  not  so ;  viz.  when- 
ever they  are  incompatible  with  each  other:  e.  g.  the 
opposite,  strictly  speaking,  to  anger,  would  be  a  feeling 
of  good-will  and  approbation  towards  the  person  in 
question ;  but  it  is  not  by  the  excitement  of  this,  alone, 
that  anger  may  be  allayed  ;  for  fear  is,  practically,  con- 
trary to  it  also ;  as  is  remarked  by  Aristotle,  who  philo- 
sophically accounts  for  this,  on  the  principle  that  anger, 
implying  a  desire  to  inflict  punishment,  must  imply  also 
a  supposition  that  it  is  possible  to  do  so ;  and  accordingly 


178  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  It 

men  do  not,  he  says,  feel  anger  towards  one  who  is  so 
much  superior  as  to  be  manifestly  out  of  their  reach  ; 
and  the  object  of  their  anger  ceases  to  be  so,  as  soon  as 
he  becomes  an  object  of  apprehension.  Of  course  the 
converse  also  of  this  holds  good ;  anger,  when  it  pre- 
vails, in  like  manner  subduing  fear.  Savage  nations, 
accordingly,  having  no  military  discipline,  are  accus- 
tomed to  work  themselves  up  into  a  phrensy  of  rage  by 
their  war-songs  and  dances,  in  order  to  excite  them- 
selves to  courage.*  Compassion,  likewise,  may  be 
counteracted  either  by  disapprobation,  by  jealousy,  by 
fear,  or  by  disgust  and  horror ;  and  envy,  either  by  good- 
will, or  by  contempt. 

This  is  tbe  more  necessary  to  be  attended  to,  in  or- 
der that  the  Orator  may  be  on  his  guard  against  inad- 
vertently defeating  his  own  object,  by  exciting  feelings 
at  variance  with  those  he  is  endeavouring  to  produce, 
though  not  strictly  contrary  to  them.  Aristotle  accord- 
ingly notices,  with  this  view  the  difference  between  the 
"  Pitiable,"  (eleeivbv,)  and  the"  Horrible  or  Shocking," 
(Seivov,)  which,  as  he  observes,  excite  different  feel- 
ings, destructive  of  each  other  ;  so  that  the  Orator  must 
be  warned,  if  the  former  is  his  object,  to  keep  clear  of 
any  thing  that  may  excite  the  latter 

It  will  often  happen  that  it  will  be  easier  to  give  a 
new  direction  to  the  unfavourable  passion,  than  to  sub- 
due it ;  e.  g.  to  turn  the  indignation,  or  the  laughter,  of 
the  hearers  against  a  different  object.  Indeed,  when- 
ever the  case  will  admit  of  this,  it  will  generally  prove 
the  more  successful  expedient ;  because  it  does  not  im- 
ply the  accomplishment  of  so  great  a  change  in  the 
minds  of  the  hearers. 

•  See  Arist.  Rhet.  b.  ii.  in  his  Treatises  on  '0/>yi)  and  $<f/3e$. 


Part  III.}  OF  PERSPICUITY.  tf$ 

V  A  RT    III. 

OF  STYLE. 


Chap.  I. — Of  Perspicuity 

§  1.  Though  the  consideration  of  Style  style  not m 
has  been  laid  down  as  holding  a  place  in  a  be  treated 
Treatise  of  Rhetoric,  it  would  be  neither  ne-  jf  general, 
cessary  nor  pertinent,  to  enter  fully  into  a  5' 
general  discussion  of  the  subject;  which  would  evi- 
dently embrace  much  that  by  no  means  peculiarly  be- 
longs to  our  present  inquiry.  It  is  requisite  for  an  Or- 
ator, e.  g.  to  observe  the  rules  of  Grammar ;  but  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  Poet,  and  the  Historian,  &c. ; 
nor  is  there  any  peculiar  kind  of  grammatical  propriety 
belonging  to  persuasive  or  argumentative  compositions; 
so  that  it  would  be  a  departure  from  our  subject  to  treat 
at  large  under  the  head  of  Rhetoric,  of  such  rules  as 
equally  concern  every  other  of  the  purposes  for  which 
language  is  employed. 

Conformably  to  this  view,  1  shall,  under  the  present 
head,  notice  but  slightly  such  principles  of  composition 
as  do  not  exclusively  or  especially  belong  to  the  pres- 
ent subject ;  confining  my  attention  chiefly  to  such  ob- 
servations on  Style  as  have  an  especial  reference  to  Ai 
gumentative  and  Persuasive  works. 

§  2.  It  is  sufficiently  evident  (though  the  perspicuity 
maxim  is  often  practically  disregarded)  that  a  relative 
the  first  requisite  of  Style  not  only  in  rheto-  cluality- 
rical,  but  in  all  compositions,*  is  Perspicuity  ;  since,  as, 
Aristotle  observes,  language  which  is  not  intelligible, 

*In  Poetry,  perspicuity  is  indeed  by  no  means  unimportant ;  bul 
the  most  perfect  degree  of  it  is  by  no  means  so  essential  as  in  Prose* 
works.    See  part  iii.  ch.  iii.  §  3. 


180  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  m. 

or  not  clearly  and  readily  intelligible,  fails,  in  the  same 
proportion,  of  the  purpose  for  which  language  is  em- 
ployed. And  it  is  equally  self-evident  (though  this 
truth  is  still  more  frequently  overlooked)  that  Perspi- 
cuity is  a  relative  quality,  and  consequently  cannot 
properly  be  predicated  of  any  work,  without  a  tacit  re- 
ference to  the  class  of  readers  or  hearers  for  whom  it  is 
designed. 

Nor  is  it  enough  that  the  Style  be  such  as  they  are 
capable  of  understanding,  if  they  bestow  their  utmost 
attention :  the  degree  and  the  kind  of  attention,  which 
they  have  been  accustomed  or  are  likely  to  bestow,  will 
be  among  the  circumstances  that  are  to  be  taken  into 
the  account,  and  provided  for.  I  say  the  kind,  as  well 
as  the  degree,  of  attention,  because  seme  hearers  and. 
readers  will  be  found  slow  of  apprehension  indeed,  but 
capable  of  taking  in  what  is  very  copiously  and  gradu- 
ally explained  to  them ;  wThile  others,  on  the  contrary, 
who  are  much  quicker  at  catching  the  sense  of  what  is 
expressed  in  a  short  compass,  are  incapable  of  long  at- 
tention, and  are  not  only  wearied,  but  absolutely  be- 
wildered, by  a  diffuse  Style. 

When  a  numerous  and  very  mixed  audience  is  to  be 
addressed,  much  skill  will  be  required  in  adapting  the 
Style,  (both  in  this,  and  in  other  respects,)  and  indeed 
the  Arguments  also,  and  the  whole  structure  of  the 
discourse,  to  the  various  minds  which  it  is  designed  to 
impress ;  nor  can  the  utmost  art  and  diligence  prove, 
after  all,  more  than  partially  successful  in  such  a  case ; 
especially  when  the  diversities  are  so  many  and  so  great, 
as  exist  in  the  congregations  to  which  most  Sermona 
are  addressed,  and  in  the  readers  for  whom  popular 
works  of  an  argumentative,  instructive,  and  hortatory 
character,  are  intended.  ■  It  is  possible,  however,  to 
approach  indefinitely  to  an  object  which  cannot  be 
completely  attained;  and  to  adopt  such  a  Style,  and 
likewise  such  a  mode  of  reasoning,  as  shall  be  levc 
to  the  comprehension  of  the  greater  part,  at  least 


Chap  I.  §  2.]        OF  PERSPICUITY.  ltfj 

tven  of  a  promiscuous  audience,  without  being  dis- 
"fcsteful  to  any. 

It  is  obvious,  and  has  often  been  remarked,  that 
extreme  conciseness  is  ill  suited  to  hearers  or  readers 
whose  intellectual  powers  and  cultivation  are  but  small 
The  usual  expedient,  however,  of  employing  Brevity  and 
a. prolix  Style  by  way  of  accommodation  to  prolixity, 
such  minds,  is  seldom  successful.  Most  of  those  who 
could  have  comprehended  the  meaning,  if  more  briefly 
expressed,  and  many  of  those  who  could  not  do  so,  are 
likely  to  be  bewildered  by  tedious  expansion  ;  and  being 
unable  to  maintain  a  steady  attention  to  what  is  said, 
they  forget  part  of  what  they  have  heard,  before  the 
whole  is  completed.  Add  to  which,  that  the  feebleness 
produced  by  excessive  dilution,  (if  such'  an  expression 
may  be  allowed,)  will  occasion  the  attention  to 
languish;  and  what  is  imperfectly  attended  to,  how- 
ever clear  in  itself,  will  usually  be  but  imperfectly 
understood  Let  not  an  author,  therefore,  satisfy 
himself  by  finding  that  he  has  expressed  his  meaning  so 
that,  if  attended  to,  he  cannot  fail  to  be  understood ;  he 
must  consider  also  (as  was  before  remarked)  what 
attention  is  likely  to  be  paid  to  it.  If  on  the  one  hand 
much  matter  is  expressed  in  very  few  words  to  an  unre- 
flecting audience,  or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a 
wearisome  prolixity,  the  requisite  attention  may  very 
probably  not  be  bestowed. 

It  is  remarked  by  Anatomists,  that  the  nutritive 
quality  is  not  the  only  requisite  in  food ; — that  a  certain 
degree  of  distention  of  the  stomach  is  required,  to  enable 
it  to  act  with  its  full  powers, — and  that  it  is  for  this 
reason  hay  or  straw  must  be  given  to  horses,  as  well  as 
corn,  in  order  to  supply  the  necessary  bulk.  Some- 
thing analogous  to  this  takes  place  with  respect  to  the 
generality  of  minds ;  which  are  incapable  of  thoroughly 
digesting  and  assimilating  what  is  presented  to  them, 
however  clearly,  in  a  very  small  compass.  Many  a 
one  is  capable  of  deriving   that    instruction   from  ? 


182  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  HI 

moderate  sized  volume,  which  he  could  not  receive 
from  a  very  small  pamphlet,  even  more  perspicuously 
written,  and  containing  every  thing  that  is  to  the  pur- 
pose. It  is  necessary  that  the  attention  should  be 
detained  for  a  certain  time  on  the  subject :  and  persons 
of  unphilosophical  mind,  though  they  can  attend  to 
what  they  read  or  hear,  are  unapt  to  dwell  upon  it  in 
the  way  of  subsequent  meditation. 
Repetition.  The  DPst  general  rule  for  avoiding  the 
disadvantages  both  of  conciseness  and  of 
prolixity  is  to  employ  Repetition :  to  repeat,  that  is,  the 
same  sentiment  and  argument  in  many  different  forms 
of  expression ;  each,  in  itself  brief,  but  all,  together, 
affording  such  an  expansion  of  the  sense  to  be  conveyed, 
and  so  detaining  the  mmd  upon  it,  as  the  case  may 
require.  Cicero  among  the  ancients,  and  Burke  among 
the  modern  writers,  afford,  perhaps,  the  most  abundant 
practical  exemplifications  of  this  rule.  The  latter 
sometimes  shows  a  deficiency  in  correct  taste,  and  lies 
open  to  Horace's  censure  of  an  author,  "  Qui  variarc 
cupit  rem  prod igial iter  unam ;"  but  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  seldom  fails  to  make  himself  thoroughly  under- 
stood, and  does  not  often  weary  the  attention,  even 
when  he  offends  the  taste,  of  his  readers. 

Care  must  of  course  be  taken  that  the  repetition  may 
not  be  too  glaringly  apparent ;  the  variation  must  not 
consist  in  the  mere  use  of  other,  synonymous,  words; 
but  what  has  been  expressed  in  appropriate  terms  may 
be  repeated  in  metaphorical ;  the  antecedent  and  conse- 
quent of  an  argument,  or  the  parts  of  an  antithesis  may 
be  transposed  ;  or  several  different  points  that  have 
been  enumerated,  presented  in  a  varied  order,  &c. 
Words  de-  ^  ^s  not  necessary  to  dwell  on  that  obvi 
rived  from  ous  rule  laid  down  by  Aristotle,  to  avoid  un« 
feTunde?-"  common>  and>  as  tnev  are  vulgarly  called, 
stood  by  hard  words,  i.  e.  those  which  are  such  to 
the  lower  the  persons  addressed  ;  but  it  may  be  worth 
c  asses.        remarking,  that  to  those  who  wish  to  be  un- 


Chap.  I.  §2.]        OF  PERSPICUITY.  183 

derstood  by  the  lower  orders  of  the  English,*  one  of  the 
best  principles  of  selection  is  to  prefer  terms  of  Saxon 
origin,  which  will  generally  be  more  familiar  to  them, 
than  those  derived  from  the  Latin,  (either  directly,  or 
through  the  medium  of  the  French,)  even  when  the 
latter  are  more  in  use  among  persons  of  education-! 
Our  language  being  (with  very  trifling  exceptions)  made 
up  of  these  elements,  it  is  very  easy  for  any  one, 
though  unacquainted  with  Saxon,  to  observe  this  pre- 
cept, if  he  has  but  a  knowledge  of  French  or  of  Latin ; 
and  there  is  a  remarkable  scope  for  such  a  choice  as  1 
am  speaking  of,  from  the  multitude  of  synonymes  de- 
rived, respectively,  from  those  two  sources.  The  com- 
pilers of  our  Liturgy  being  anxious  to  reach  the  under- 
standings of  all  classes,  at  a  time  when  our  language 
was  in  a  less  settled  state  than  at  present,  availed  them- 
selves of  this  circumstance  in  employing  many  synony- 
mous, or  nearly  synonymous,  expressions,  most  of 
which  are  of  the  description  just  alluded  to.  Take,  as 
an  instance,  the  Exhortation: — "acknowledge"  and 
"  confess;" — "  dissemble"  and  "  cloke  ;" — "  humble " 
and  "  lowly ;" — "  goodness  "  and  "  mercy ;" — "  assem- 
ble "  and  "  meet  together."  And  here  it  may  be  observ- 
ed, that  (as  in  this  last  instance)  a  word  of  French  origin 
will  very  often  not  have  a  single  word  of  Saxon  deri- 
vation corresponding  to  it,  but  may  find  an  exact  equiva- 
lent in  a  phrase  of  two  or  more  words ;  e.  g.  "  consti- 
tute," "  go  to  make  up  ;" — "  suffice," — "  be  enough 
for;" — "  substitute,"  "  put  in  the  stead,"  &c.  &c. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  a  Style  composed  chiefly 
of  the  words  of  French  origin,  while  it  is  less  intelligi- 
ble to  the  lowest  classes,  is  characteristic  of  those  who 
in  cultivation  of  taste  are  below  the  highest.     As  in 

•  This  does  not  hold  good  in  an  equal  degree  in  Ireland,  whsre 
the  language  was  introduced  by  the  higher  classes. 

t  A  remarkable  instance  of  this  is,  that  while  the  children  of  the 
kigher  classes  always  call  their  parents  "  Papa  !"  and  "  Mamma  !" 
fh«  children  of  the  peasantry  usually  call  them  by  the  title*  of 
4  Father  !"  and  "  Mother  !" 


184  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pari  ill 

dress,  furniture,  deportment,  &c.  so  also  in  language,  the 
dread  of  vulgarity  constantly  besetting  those  who  are 
half  conscious  that  they  are  in  danger  of  it,  drives  them 
into  the  extreme  of  affected  finery.  So  that  the  precept 
which  has  been  given  with  a  view  to  perspicuity,  may, 
to  a  certain  degree,  be  observed  writh  an  advantage  in 
point  of  elegance  also. 

rs  .    .  In  adapting  the  Style  to  the  comprehension 

not  KHJon-  of  the  illiterate,*  a  caution  is  to  be  observed 
sistent  with  against  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  "plain? 
ornament.  ^^^  js  opposed  sometimes  to  obscurity, 
and  sometimes  to  ornament.  The  vulgar  require  a  per- 
spicuous, but  by  no  means  a  dry  and  unadorned  style; 
on  the  contrary,  they  have  a  taste  rather  for  the  over- 
florid,  tawdry,  and  bombastic  :  nor  are  the  ornaments  of 
style  by  any  means  necessarily  inconsistent  with  per- 
spicuity ;  indeed  Metaphor,  which  is  among  the  prin- 
cipal of  them,  is,  in  many  cases,  the  clearest  mode  of 
expression  that  can  be  adopted ;  it  being  usually,  much 
easier  for  uncultivated  minds  to  comprehend  a  similitude 
or  analogy,  than  an  abstract  term.  And  hence  the  lan- 
guage of  savages,  as  has  often  been  remarked,  is  highly 
metaphorical ;  and  such  appears  to  have  been  the  case 
with  all  languages  in  their  earlier,  and  consequently 
ruder  and  more  savage  state  ;  all  terms  relating  to  the 
mind  and  its  operations,  being,  as  appears  from  the 
etymology  of  most  of  them,  originally  metaphorical; 
though  by  long  use  they  have  ceased  to  be  so  :  e.  g.  the 
words  "  ponder,"  'J  deliberate,"  "  reflect,"  and  many 
other  such,  are  evidently  drawn  by  analogy  from  ex- 
ternal sensible  bodily  actions. 

Construe-  §  3.  In  respect  to  the  Construction  of  sen 
tion  of  Sen-  tences,  it  is  an  obvious  caution  to  abstain 
from  such  as  are  too  long ;  but  it  is  a  mis- 
take to  suppose  that  the  obscurity  of  many  long  sen- 
tences depends  on  their  length  alone.  A  wTell  con- 
structed sentence  of  very  considerable  length  may  be 
*  See  Elements  of  Logic,  Fallacies,  Book  iii.  ^  5.  p.  187 


Chap.  I.  §3.]        OF  PERSPICUITY.  186 

more  readily  undeistood,  than  a  shorter  one  which  is 
more  awkwardly  framed.  If  a  sentence  be  so  con- 
structed that  the  meaning  of  each  part  can  be  taken  in 
as  we  proceed,  (though  it  be  evident  that  the  sense  is 
not  brought  to  a  close,)  its  length  will  be  little  or  no 
impediment  to  perspicuity ;  but  if  the  former  part  of  the 
sentence  convey  no  distinct  meaning  till  we  arrive 
nearly  at  the  end,  (however  plain  it  may  then  appear,) 
it  will  be,  on  the  whole,  deficient  in  perspicuity  ;  for  it 
will  need  to  be  read  over,  or  thought  over,  a  second  time, 
in  order  to  be  fully  comprehended .;  which  is  what  few 
readers  or  hearers  are  willing  to  be  burthened  with. 
Take  as  an  instance  such  a  sentence  as  this  :  "  It  is  not 
without  a  degree  of  patient  attention  and  persevering 
diligence,  greater  than  the  generality  are  willing  to 
bestow,  though  not  greater  than  the  object  deserves,  that 
the  habit  can  be  acquired  of  examining  and  judging  of 
our  own  conduct  with  the  same  accuracy  and  impar- 
tiality as  of  that  of  another ;"  this  labours  under  the 
defect  I  am  speaking  of;  which  may  be  remedied  by 
some  such  alteration  as  the  following:  "  the  habit  of 
examining  our  own  conduct  as  accurately  as  that  of 
another,  and  judging  of  it  with  the  same  impartiality, 
cannot  be  acquired  without  a  degree  of  patient  attention 
and  persevering  diligence,  not  greater  indeed  than  the 
object  deserves,  but  greater  than  the  generality  are 
willing  to  bestow."  The  two  sentences  are  nearly  the 
same  in  length,  and  in  the  words  employed ;  but  the 
alteration  of  the  arrangement  allows  the  latter  to  be  un- 
derstood clause  by  clause,  as  it  proceeds.*  The  caution 
just  given  is  the  more  necessary  to  be  insisted  on,  be- 

*  Care  must  be  taken,  however,  in  applying  this  precept,  not  to 
let  the  beginning  of  a  sentence  so  forestall  what  follows  as  to  ren- 
der it  apparently  feeble  and  impertinent  :  e.  g.  "  Solomon,  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  of  men  for  wisdom  and  for  prosperity,"  .... 
"  why  who  needs"  (the  hearer  will  be  apt  to  say  to  himself)  "  to 
be  told  that?"  and  yet  it  may  be  important  to  the  purpose  in  hand 
to  fix.  the  attention  on  these  circumstances  :  let  the  description 
come  before  the  name,  and  the  sentence,  while  it  remains  equally 
perspicuous,  will  be  free  from  the  fault  complained  of. 
15 


186  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      [Part  111 

cause  an  author  is  apt  to  be  misled  by  reading  over  a 
sentence  to  himself,  and  being  satisfied  on  finding  it 
perfectly  intelligible ;  forgetting  that  he  himself  has  the 
advantage,  which  a  hearer  has  not,  of  knowing  at  the 
beginning  of  the  sentence  what  is  coming  in  the  close. 
Clear  ideas  Universally,  indeed,  an  unpractised  writer 
do  not  imply  is  liable  to  be  misled  by  his  own  knowledge 
clearness  of  0f  nis  own  meaning,  into  supposing  those 
expression.  eXpressions  dearly  intelligible,  which  are  so 
to  himself ;  but  which  may  not  be  so  to  the  reader, 
whose  thoughts  are  not  in  the  same  train.  And  hence 
it  is  that  some  do  not  write  or  speak  with  so  much  per- 
spicuity on  a  subject  which  has  long  been  very  fami- 
liar to  them,  as  on  one,  which  they  understand  indeed, 
but  with  which  they  are  less  intimately  acquainted,  and 
in  which  their  knowledge  has  been  more  recently  ac- 
quired. In  the  former  case  it  is  a  matter  of  some  diffi- 
culty to  keep  in  mind  the  necessity  of  carefully  and 
copiously  explaining  principles  which  by  long  habit 
have  come  to  assume  in  our  minds  the  appearance  of 
self-evident  truths.  So  far  from  being  correct  is  Blair's 
notion,  that  obscurity  of  Style  necessarily  springs  from 
indistinctness  of  Conception. 

Perspicuity  §  4-  Tne  foregoing  rules  have  all,  it  is 
not  always  evident,  proceeded  on  the  supposition  that 
aimed  at.  ft  [s  ^g  writer's  intention  to  be  understood ; 
and  this  cannot  but  be  the  case  in  every  legitimate  ex- 
ercise of  the  rhetorical  art;  and  generally  speaking, 
even  where  the  design  is  sophistical.  For,  as  Dr. 
Campbell  has  justly  remarked,  the  Sophist  may  employ 
for  his  purpose  what  are  in  themselves  real  and  valid 
arguments;  since  probabilities  may  lie  on  opposite 
sides,  though  truth  can  be  but  on  one ;  his  fallacious 
artifice  consisting  only  in  keeping  out  of  sight  the 
stronger  probabilities  which  may  be  urged  against  him, 
and  in  attributing  an  undue  weight  to  those  which  he 
has  to  allege.  Or  again  he  may,  either  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, assume  as  self-evident,  a  premiss  which  there  is 


Chap.  I.  §  4.]        OF  PERSPICUITY.  187 

qo  sufficient  ground  for  admitting;  or  he  may  draw  of! 
the  attention  of  the  hearers  to  the  proof  of  some  irrele- 
vant point,  &c,  according  to  the  various  modes  de- 
scribed hi  the  Treatise  on  Fallacies  ;*  but  in  all  this 
there  ia  no  call  for  any  departure  from  perspicuity  of 
Style,  properly  so  called ;  not  even  when  he  avails  him- 
self of  an  ambiguous  term.  "  For  though,"  as  Dr 
Campbell  says,  "  a  Sophism  can  be  mistaken  for  an 
Argument  only  where  it  is  not  rightly  understood,"  it 
is  the  aim  of  him  who  employs  it,  rather  that  the  mat- 
ter should  be  misunderstood  than  not  understood  ; — that 
his  language  should  be  deceitful,  rather  than  obscure  or 
unintelligible.  The  hearer  must  not  indeed  form  acor- 
rect,  but  he  must  form  some,  and  if  possible,  a  distinct, 
though  erroneous  idea  of  the  arguments  employed,  in 
order  to  be  misled  by  them.  The  obscurity  in  short,  if 
it  is  to  be  so  called,  must  not  be  obscurity  of  Style  \  it 
must  be  not  like  a  mist  which  dims  the  appearance  of 
objects,  but  like  a  coloured  glass  which  disguises  them. 

There  are,  however,  certain  spurious  Spurious 
kinds,  as  they  may  be  called,  of  writing  or  Oratory, 
speaking,  (distinct  from  what  is  strictly  termed  Soph- 
istry,) in  which  obscurity  of  Style  may  be  apposite. 
The  Object  which  has  all  along  been  supposed,  is  that 
of  convincing  or  persuading ;  but  there  are  some  kinds 
of  Oratory,  if  they  are  to  be  so  named,  in  which  some 
different  End  is  proposed. 

One  of  these  Ends  is,  (when  the  cause  is  Appearing 
such  that  it  cannot  be  sufficiently  supported  to  urge 
even  by  specious  Fallacies,)  to  appear  to  say  somet]iing. 
something,  when  there  is  in  fact  nothing  to  be  said ;  so 
as  at  least  to  avoid  the  ignominy  of  being  silenced.     To 
this  end,  the  more  confused  and  unintelligible  the  lan- 
guage, the  better,  provided  it  carry  with  it  the  appear- 
ance of  profound  wisdom,  and  of  being  something  to  the 
purpose. 

"  Now  though  nothing  (says  Dr  Campbell,)  would 

Logic,  B.  iii 


188  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC      1*>art  III. 

seem  to  be  easier  than  this  kind  of  Style,  where  an  au- 
thor falls  into  it  naturally ;  that  is,  when  he  deceives 
himself  as  well  as  his  reader,  nothing  is  more  difficult 
when  altempted  of  design.  Tt  is  besides  requisite,  if 
this  manner  must  be  continued  for  any  time,  that  it  be 
artfully  blended  with  some  glimpses  of  meaning ;  else, 
to  persons  of  discernment,  the  charm  will  at  length  be 
dissolved,  and  the  nothingness  of  what  has  been  spoken 
will  be  detected ;  nay,  even  the  attention  of  the.  unsus- 
pecting multitude,  when  not  relieved  by  any  thing  that 
is  level  to  their  comprehension,  will  infallibly  flag. 
The  Invocation  in  the  Dunciad  admirably  suits  the 
Orator  who  is  unhappily  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
taking  shelter  in  the  unintelligible  : 

Of  darkness  visble  so  much  he  lent. 

As  half  to  show,  half  veil  the  deep  intent." 

Chap.  viii.  sec.  1,  p.  119. 

This  artifice  is  distinguished  from  Sophistry,  properly 
bo  called,  (with  which  Dr.  Campbell  seems  to  confound 
it,)  by  the  circumstance  that  its  tendency  is  not,  as  in 
Sophistry,  to  convince,  but  to  have  the  appearance  of 
arguing,  when  in  fact  nothing  is  urged.  For  in  order 
for  men  to  be  convinced,  on  however  insufficient 
grounds,  they  must  (as  was  remarked  above)  under- 
stand something  from  what  is  said,  though  if  it  be  falla- 
cious, they  must  not  understand  it  rightly ;  but  if  this 
cannot  be  accomplished,  the  Sophist's  next  resort  is  the 
unintelligible ;  which  indeed  is  very  often  intermixed 
with  the  sophistical,  when  the  latter  is  of  itself  too 
scanty  or  too  weak.  Nor  does  the  adoption  of  this 
Style  serve  merely  to  save  his  credit  as  an  Orator  or 
Author ;  it  frequently  does  more :  ignorant  and  unre- 
flecting persons,  though  they  cannot  be,  strictly  speak- 
ing, convinced,  by  what  they  do  not  understand,  yet 
will  very  often  suppose,  each,  that  the  rest  understand 
it;  and  each  is  ashamed  to  acknowledge,  even  to  him- 
self, his  own  darkness  and  perplexity :  so  that  if  the 
speaker  with  a  confident  air  announces  his  conclusion 


Chap.  I.  $  5.]        OF  PERSPICUITY.  189 

as  established,  they  will  often,  according  to  the  maxim 
•'  omnc  ignoium  pro  mirijico?  take  for  granted  that  he 
has  advanced  valid  arguments,  and  will  be  loth  to  seem 
behind-hand  in  comprehending  them  It  usually  re- 
quires that  a  man  should  have  some  confidence  in  his 
own  understanding,  to  venture  to  say,  "  what  has  been 
spoken  is  unintelligible  to  me." 

Another  purpose  sometimes  answered  by 
a  discourse  of  this  kind  is,  that  it  serves  to  a  pretext2 
furnish  an  excuse,  flimsy  indeed,  but  not  un-  for  voting 
frequently  sufficient,  for  men  to  vote  or  act  ac-  a\-°^  is  iD 
cording  to  their  own  inclinations;  which  they 
would  perhaps  have  been  ashamed  to  do.  if  strong  argu 
meats  had  been  urged  on  the  other  side,  and  had  remained 
tonfessedhj  unanswered  ;  but  they  satisfy  themselves,  if 
something  has  been  said  in  favour  of  the  course  they 
wish  to  adopt ;  though  that  something  be  only  fair- 
soundmg  sentences  that  convey  no  distinct  meaning. 
They  are  content  that  an  answer  has  been  made,  with- 
out troubling  themselves  to  consider  what  it  is. 

§  5.  Another  end,  which  in  speaking  is 
oometimes  proposed,  and  which  is,  if  possi-  jn^ume" 
ble,  still  more  remote  from  the  legitimate 
province  of  Rhetoric,  is  to  occupy  time.  When  an  un- 
favourable decision  is  apprehended,  and  the  protraction 
of  the  debate  may  afford  time  for  fresh  voters  to  be  sum- 
moned, or  may  lead  to  an  adjournment,  which  will  af- 
ford scope  for  some  other  mancEuvre  ; — when  there  is  a 
chance  of  so  wearying  out  the  attention  of  the  hearers, 
that  they  will  listen  with  languor  and  impatience  to 
what  shall  be  urged  on  the  other  side ; — when  an  advo- 
cate is  called  upon  to  plead  a  cause  in  the  absence  of 
those  whose  opinion  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
influence,  and  wishes  to  reserve  all  his  Arguments  till 
they  arrive,  but  till  then,  must  apparently  proceed  in  his 
pleading ;  in  these  and  many  similar  cases,  which  it  is 
needless  to  particularize,  it  is  a  valuable  talent  to  be 
able  to  pour  forth  with  fluency  an  unlimited  quantity  of 


190  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IE 

well -sounding  language  which  has  little  or  no  meaning, 
yet  which  shall  not  strike  the  hearers  as  unintelligible 
or  nonsensical,  though  it  convey  to  their  minds  no  dis- 
tinct idea. 

Perspicuity  of  Style — real,  not  apparent,  perspicuity 
— is  in  this  case  never  necessary,  and  sometimes,  studi« 
ously  avoided.  H  any  distinct  meaning  were  conveyed, 
then,  if  that  which  was  said  were  irrelevant,  it  would 
be  perceived  to  be  so,  and  would  produce  impatience  in 
the  hearers,  or  afford  an  advantage  to  the  opponents;  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  speech  were  relevant,  and  there 
were  no  arguments  of  any  force  to  be  urged,  except  such 
as  either  had  been  already  dwelt  on,  or  were  required 
to  be  reserved  (as  in  the  case  last  alluded  to)  for  a  fuller 
audience,  the  speaker  would  not  further  his  cause  by 
bringing  them  forward.  So  that  the  usual  resource  on 
these  occasions,  of  such  orators  as  thoroughly  under, 
stand  the  tricks  of  their  art,  and  do  not  disdain  to  emplov 
them,  is  to  amuse  their  audience  with  specious  empti- 
ness. 

It  is  most  unfortunate,  that  in  Sermons  there  should 
be  so  much  temptation  to  fall  into  the  first  two  (to  say 
nothing  of  the  third)  of  these  kinds  of  spurious  oratory. 
When  it  is  appointed  that  a  Sermon  shall  be  preached, 
and  custom  requires  that  it  shall  be  of  a  certain  length, 
there  cannot  but  be  more  danger  that  the  preacher  should 
chiefly  consider  himself  as  bound  to  say  something,  and 
to  occupy  the  time  prescribed,  without  keeping  in  mind 
the  object  of  leaving  his  hearers  the  wiser  or  the  better, 
than  if  he  were  to  preach  solely  in  consequence  of  his 
having  such  a  specific  object  to  accomplish.* 

§  6.  Another  kind  of  spurious  Oratory, 

Eloquence.   and  the  last  tnat  will   be  noticed,  is  that 

which  has  for  its  object  to  gain  the  hearers 

admiration  of  the  Eloquence  displayed.     This,  indeed, 

constitutes  one  of  the  three  k'nasof  Oratory  enumerated 

*  See  part  iii.  chap.  iii.  §  2. 


Chap.  I.  5  C]         OF  PERSPICUITY.  191 

Dy  Aristotle,*  and  is  regularly  treated  of  by  him,  along 
with  the  deliberative  and  Judicial  branches ;  though  it 
hardly  deserves  the  place  he  has  bestowed  on  it. 

When  this  is  the  end  pursued,  perspicuity  is  not  in 
deed  to  be  avoided,  but  it  may  often  without  detriment 
be  disregarded. f  Men  frequently  admire  as  eloquent, 
and  sometimes  admire  the  most,  what  they  do  not  at  all, 
or  do  not  fully,  comprehend,  if  elevated  and  high-sound- 
ing words  be  arranged  in  graceful  and  sonorous  periods. 
Those  of  uncultivated  minds,  especially,  are  apt  to  think 
meanly  of  any  thing  that  is  brought  down  perfectly  to 
the  low  level  of  their  capacity ;  though  to  do  this  with 
respect  to  valuable  truths  which  are  not  trite,  is  one  of 
the  most  admirable  feats  of  genius.  They  admire  the 
profundity  of  one  who  is  mystical  and  obscure ;  mistak- 
ing the  muddiness  of  the  water  for  depth;  and  magni- 
fying in  their  imaginations  what  is  viewed  through  a 
log ;  and  they  conclude  that  brilliant  language  must  re- 
present some  brilliant  ideas,  without  troubling  them- 
selves to  enquire  what  those  ideas  are. 

Many  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  a  "  fine  discourse, 
or  a  piece  of  "  fine  writing,"  would  be  found  on  exam- 
ination to  retain  only  a  few  sonorous,  but  empty  phra- 
ses ;  and  not  only  to  have  no  notion  of  the  general  drift 
of  the  Argument,  but  not  even  to  have  ever  considered 
whether  the  author  had  any  such  drift  or  not. 

It  is  not  meant  to  be  insinuated  that  in  every  such 
case  the  composition  is  in  itself  unmeaning,  or  that  the 
author  had  no  other  object  than  the  credit  of  eloquence ; 
he  may  have  had  a  higher  end  in  view ;  and  he  may 
have  expressed  himself  very  clearly  to  some  hearers, 
though  not  to  all;  but  it  is  most  important  to  be  fully 
aware  of  the  fact,  that  it  is  possible  to  obtair  the  high- 

*  For  he  says,  that  in  each  of  the  two  other  kinds,  the  hearer  is 
a  "judge;"  in  the  first  of  the  "  expedient,"  in  the  other,  of  the 
"just ;"  but  in  the  third  kind  he  is  only  dewpbs,  literally,  a  Specta 
tcr-,  and  is  a  judge  merely  (r»/j  oovapvas)  of  the  ability  of  th« 
Orator. 

t  See  Appendix,  [L."l 


192  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

est  applause  from  those  who  not  only  receive  no  edifi- 
cation from  what  they  hear,  but  absolutely  do  not  un- 
derstand it.  So  far  is  popularity  from  being  a  safe  cri- 
terion of  the  usefulness  of  a  preacher. 


Chap.  II. — Of  Energy 

§  1.  The  next  quality  of  Style  to  be  noticed  is  what  ma) 
be  called  Energy ;  the  term  being  used  in  a  wider  sense 
than  the  'Evfyyeia  of  Aristotle,  and  nearly  correspond 
ing  with  what  Dr.  Campbell  calls  Vivacity ;  so  as  tc 
comprehend  every  thing  that  may  conduce  to  stimulate 
attention — to  impress  strongly  on  the  mind  the  Argu- 
ments adduced — to  excite  the  Imagination,  and  to  arouse 
the  Feelings. 

This  Energy  then,  or  Vivacity  of  Style,  must  depend 
(as  is  likewise  the  case  in  respect  of  Perspicuity)  on 
three  things;  1st,  the  Choice  of  words,  2nd,  their  Num- 
ber, and  3rd,  their  Arrangement. 
n,   .       F        With  respect  to  the  choice  of  words,  it  will 

Choice  oi      ■■  r  -tit 

words  with  be  most  convenient  to  consider  them  under 
a  view  to  those  two  classes  which  Aristotle  has  de- 
energy,  scribed  under  the  titles  of  Kuria  and  Xena, 
tor  which  our  language  does  not  afford  precisely  cor? 
responding  names :  "  Proper,"  «  Appropriate,"  or  "  Ordi- 
nary," terms,  will  the  most  nearly  designate  the  former ; 
the  latter  class  (literally  the  "  Strange,")  including  all 
others ; — all  that  are  in  any  way  removed  from  common 
use; — whether  uncommon  terms,  or  ordinary  terms, 
either  transferred  to  a  different  meaning  from  that  which 
strictly  belongs  to  them,  or  employed  in  a  different  man- 
ner from  that  of  common  discourse.  All  the  Tropes  and 
Figures,  enumerated  by  Grammatical  and  Rhetorical 
Writers,  will  of  course  fall  under  this  head 
Caution  With  respect  then  to  "  Proper  "  terms,  the 

against  ge-    principal  rule  for  guiding  our  choice  with  a 
uera  ems.  Tjew  tQ  j^gj.^  1S  to  prefer,  ever»  those 


Chap.  II.  §  1.]  OF  ENERGY.  ifi  1 

words  which  are  tlie  least  abstract  and  general.  Ini> 
viduals  alone  having  a  real  existence,*  the  term? 
denoting  them  (called  by  Logicians  "  Singular  terms") 
will  of  course  make  the  most  vivid  impression  on  the 
mind,  and  exercise  most  the  power  of  Conception ;  and 
the  less  remote  any  term  is  from  these,  i.  e.  the  more 
specific  or  individual,  the  more  energy  it  will  possess, 
in  comparison  of  such  as  are  more  general.  The 
impression  produced  on  the  mind  by  a  "  Singular  term," 
may  be  compared  to  the  distinct  view  taken  in  by  the 
eye  of  any  object  (suppose  some  particular  man)  near 
at  hand,  in  a  clear  light,  which  enables  us  to  distin- 
guish the  features  of  the  individual ;  in  a  fainter  light 
or  rather  further  off,  we  merely  perceive  that  the  object 
is  a  man  ;  this  corresponds  with  the  idea  conveyed  by 
the  name  of  the  Species ;  yet  further  off,  or  in  a  still 
feebler  light,  we  can  distinguish  merely  some  living 
object  ;  and  at  length,  merely  some  object ;  these  views 
corresponding  respectively  with  the  terms  denoting  the 
genera,  less  or  more  remote.  And  as  each  of  these 
views  conveys,  as  far  as  it  goes,  an  equally  correct 
impression  to  the  mind,  (for  we  are  equally  certain  that 
the  object  at  a  distance  is  something,  as  that  the  one 
close  to  us  is  such  and  such  an  individual,)  though 
each,  successively,  is  less  vivid;  so,  in  language,  a 
general  term  may  be  as  clearly  understood,  as  a  Specific, 
or  a  Singular  term,  but  will  convey  a  much  less  forcible 
impression  to  the  hearer's  mind.     "  The  more  General 

*  Thence  called  by  Aristotle,  (Categ.  sec.  3.)  "  primary  substan- 
ces •'  (izfibirai  ovaiai,)  Genus  and  Species,  being  denominated 
"  secondary,"  as  not  properly  denoting  a  "  really-existing  thing," 
(toSc  ti,)  but  rather  an  attribute.  He  has,  indeed,  been  considered 
£  s  the  great  advocate  of  the  opposite  doctrine  ;  t.  e.  the  system  oi 
,;  Realism  ;"  which  was  certainly  embraced  by  many  of  his  pro- 
fessed followers  ;  but  his  own  language  is  sufficiently  explicit 
Vlaaa  6t  oiiuia  Soku  toSc^  ti  arjfialvtiv.  'E^i  (tip  ovv  twp  howtujv 
evauJv  dvan(pi<?(3o-r)Tov  Kal  a^ijdes  (otiv,  oti  Tti&tri  armaivcv  drofiov 

)dp    KCllCV   upidjjltj)  TO  SljXoi'/XCVOP  loTlV.       5E7TJ(5f  T01P  6eVTifH,)V   OVCIUP 

*AINETAI.  flb>  bfioius  T(J>  ax'HlaTl  r'K  ^Poarjyopias  t66e  ti  arjjxaivEiv, 
travsiin}  avOpoxos,  ?}  $wov.  OY  MHN  TE  AAHGES.  d\\d  /xa\\oi, 
walov  ti  oiuaivef  k.  r.  A.  Aristotle,  Categ.  t)  3.  See  Logic,  Dissert-  c  V 


194  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  Iu 

the  terms  are,"  (as  Dr.  Campbell  justly  remarks,)  "  the 
picture  is  the  fainter;  the  more  Special  they  are,  the 
brighter.  The  same  sentiment  may  be  expressed  with 
equal  justness,  and  even  equal  perspicuity,  in  the  former 
way,  as  in  the  latter ;  but  as  the  colouring  will  in  that 
case  be  more  languid,  it  cannot  give  equal  pleasure  to  the 
fancy,  and  by  consequence  will  not  contribute  so  much 
either  to  fix  the  attention,  or  to  impress  the  memory." 

It  might  be  supposed  at  first  sight,  that  an  Author 
has  little  or  no  choice  on  this  point,  but  must  employ 
either  more  or  less  general  terms  according  to  the 
objects  he  is  speaking  of.  There  is,  however,  in 
almost  every  case,  great  room  for  such  a  choice  as  w 
are  speaking  of ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  it  depends  r 
our  choice  whether  or  not  we  will  employ  terms  vure 
general  than  the  subject  requires ;  which  may  almost 
always  be  done  consistently  with  Truth  and  Propriety, 
though  not  with  Energy  ;  if  it  be  true  that  a  man  has 
committed  murder ;  it  may  be  correctly  asserted,  that  he 
has  committed  a  crime :  if  the  Jews  were  "  extermi- 
nated," and  "Jerusalem  demolished"  by  "  Vespasian's 
army,"  it  may  be  said,  with  truth,  that  they  were 
"subdued"  by  "an. Enemy,"  and  their  "Capital" 
taken.  This  substitution  then  of  the  General  for  the 
Specific,  or  of  the  Specific  for  the  Singular,  is  always 
within  our  reach:  and  many,  especially  unpractised 
writers,  fall  into  a  feeble  style  by  resorting  to  it  unne- 
cessarily; either  because  they  imagine  there  is  more 
appearance  of  refinement  or  of  profundity,  in  the 
employment  of  such  terms  as  are  in  less  common  use 
among  the  vulgar,  or,  in  some  cases,  with  a  view  to 
give  greater  comprehensiveness  to  their  reasonings,  and 
to  increase  the  utility  of  what  they  say,  by  enlarging 
the  field  of  its  application.  Inexperienced  Preachers 
frequently  err  .n  this  way,  by  dwelling  on  Virtue  and 
Vice — Piety  and  Irreligion — in  the  abstract,  withou 
particularizing;  forgetting  that  while  they  include 
much,  they  impress  little  or  nothing. 


Chap.  II.  §  2.]  OF  ENERGY.  1§& 

The  only  appropriate  occasion  for  this  generic  lan- 
guage, (as  it  may  be  called,)  is  when  we  wish  to  avoid 
giving  a  vivid  impression — when  our  object  is  to  soften 
what  is  offensive,  disgusting,  or  shocking;  as  when 
we  speak  of  an  "  execution,"  for  the  infliction  of  the 
sentence  of  death  on  a  criminal:  of  which  kind  of 
expressions,  common  discourse  furnishes  numberless 
instances.  On  the  other  hand,  in  Antony's  speech  over 
Caesar's  body,  his  object  being  to  excite  horror,  Shak- 
speare  puts  into  his  mouth  the  most  particular  expres- 
sions ;  "  those  honourable  men  (not,  who  killed  Caesar, 
but)  whose  daggers  have  stabbed  Caesar."' 

§2.  But  in  the  second  place,  not  only  Tropes, 
does  a  regard  for  Energy  require  that  we 
should  not  use  terms  more  general  than  are  exactly  ad- 
equate to  the  objects  spoken  of,  but  we  are  also  allow- 
ed, in  many  cases,  to  employ  less  general  terms  than  are 
exactly  appropriate.  In  which  case  we  are  employing 
words  not  "appropriate,"  but  belonging  to  the  second 
of  the  two  classes  just  mentioned.  The  use  of  this 
Trope*  (enumerated  by  Aristotle  among  the  Metaphors, 
but  since  more  commonly  called  Synecdoche)  is  very  fre- 
quent ;  as  it  conduces  much  to  the  energy  of  the  expres- 
sion, without  occasioning,  in  general,  any  risk  of  its 
meaning  being  mistaken.  The  passage  cited  by  Dr. 
Campbell, f  from  one  of  our  Lord's  discourses,  (which 
are  in  general  of  this  character,)  together  with  the  re- 
marks made  upon  it,  will  serve  to  illustrate  what  has 
been  just  said:  "'Consider,'  says  our  Lord,  *  the  lilies 
how  they  grow  :  they  toil  not,  they  spin  not ;  and  yet 
I  say  unto  you,  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these.  If  then  God  so  clothe  the 
grass,  which  to-day  is  in  the  field,  and  to-  morrow  is 
cast  into  the  oven,  how  much  more  will  he  clothe 

*  From  rpsTih  ;  any  word  turned  from  its  primary  signification. 

t  The  ingeniois  Author  cites  this  in  the  Section  treating  of 
''  Proper  terms,"  which  is  -a  trifling  oversight ;  as  it  is  plain  thai 
"  lily  "  is  used  for  the  Genus  "  flower,"  "  Solomon,"  for  the  Spo 
cies  "King,"  &c. 


196  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

you  ?'  *  Let  us  here  adopt  a  attle  of  the  tasteless 
manner  of  modern  paraphrasts  by  the  substitution  of 
more  general  terms,  one  of  their  many  expedients  of  in- 
frigidating,  and  let  us  observe  the  effect  produced  by 
this  change.  '  Consider  the  flowers,  how  they  gradual- 
ly increase  in  their  size;  they  do  no  manner' of  work, 
and  yet  1  declare  to  you,  that  no  king  whatever,  in  his 
most  splendid  habit  is  dressed  up  like  them.  If  then 
God  in  his  providence  doth  so  adorn  the  vegetable  pro- 
ductions, which  continue  but  little  time  on  the  land,  and 
arc  afterwards  devoted  to  the  meanest  uses,  how  much 
more  will  he  provide  clothing  for  you  ?'  How  spiritless  is 
the  same  sentiment  rendered  by  these  small  variations ! 
The  very  particularizing  of  to-day  and  to-morrow,  is  infi- 
nitely more  expressive  of  transitoriness,  than  any  descrip- 
tion wherein  the  terms  are  general,  that  can  be  substi- 
tuted in  its  room."  It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that 
this  characteristic  of  style  is  perfectly  retained  in  trans- 
lation, in  which  every  other  excellence  of  expression 
is  liable  to  be  lost ;  so  that  the  prevalence  of  this  kind 
of  language  in  the  Sacred  writers  may  be  regarded  as 
something  exhibiting  wisdom  of  design.  It  may  be 
said  with  truth,  that  the  book  which  it  is  the  most 
necessary  to  translate  into  every  language,  is  chiefly 
characterised  by  that  kind  of  excellence  in  diction  which 
is  least  impaired  by  translation. 

§  3.  But  to  proceed  with  the  considera- 
and  simile,  tion  of  Tropes  ;  the  most  employed  and  most 
important  of  all  those  kinds  of  expressions 
which  depart  from  the  plain  and  strictly  appropriate 
Style — all  that  are  called  by  Aristotle,  Xena — is  the  Me- 
taphor, in  the  usual  and  limited  sense ;  viz.  a  word  sub- 
stituted for  another,  on  account  of  the  Resemblance  or 
Analogy  between  their  significations.  The  Simile  or 
Comparison  may  be  considered  as  differing  in  form  only 
from  a  Metaphor ;  the  resemblance  being  in  that  case 
stated,  which  in  the  Metaphor  is  implied.*  Each  may  be 
*  Luke  x ji.  27,  28.  \  See  Lo?ic,  clj  ap.  iij. 


Chap.  II.  §  3.]  OF  ENERGY.  197 

founded  either  on  Kesemblance,  strictly  so  called,  i.  e 
di'ect  resemblance  between  the  objects  themselves  in 
question,  (as  when  we  speak  of  "  fa6/e-land,  or  com- 
pare great  waves  to  mountains,)  or  on  Analogy,  which 
is  the  resemblance  of  Ratios — a  similarity  of  the  rela- 
tions they  bear  to  certain  other  objects;  as  when  we 
speak  of  the  "■  light  of  reason,"  or  of  "  revelation  ;"  or 
compare  a  wounded  and  captive  warrior  to  a  stranded 
ship.*  The  analogical  Metaphors  and  Comparisons  are 
both  the  more  frequent  and  the  more  striking.  They 
are  the  more  frequent,  because  almost  every  object  has 
such  a  multitude  of  relations,  of  different  kinds,  to  many 
other  objects ;  and  they  are  the  more  striking,  because 
(as  Dr.  A.  Smith  has  well  remarked)  the  more  remote 
and  unlike  in  themselves  any  two  objects  are,  the  more 
is  the  mind  impressed  and  gratified  by  the  perception  of 
some  point  in  which  they  agree. 

It  has  been  already  observed,  under  the  head  of  Ex- 
ample, that  we  are  carefully  to  distinguish  between  an 
Illustration,  (i.  e.  an  Argument  from  analogy  or  re- 
semblance,) and  what  is  properly  called  a  Simile  or  Com- 
parison, introduced  merely  to  give  force  or  beauty  to 
the  expression.  The  aptness  and  beauty  of  an  Illustra- 
tration  sometimes  leads  men  to  overrate,  and  sometimes 
to  underrate,  its  force  as  an  argument. f 

With  respect  to  the  choice  between  the  Metaphorical 
form  and  that  of  Comparison,  it  maybe  laid  down  as  a 
general  rule,  that  the  former  is  always  to  be  preferred,! 
wherever  it  is  sufficiently  simple  and  plain  to  be.  imme- 
diately comprehended  ;  but  that  which  as  a  Metaphor 
would  sound  obscure  and  enigmatical,  may  be  well 
received  if  expressed  as  a  Comparison.  We  may  say, 
e.  g.  with  propriety,  that  "  Cromwell  trampled  on  the 
laws;"  it  would  sound  feeble  to  say  that  "he  treated 
the  laws  wTith  the  same  contempt  as  a  man  does  any 

*  Roderick  Dhu,  in  the  I~.dy  of  the  Lake. 
t  See  part  i.  chap.  iii.  &  3. 

j  "Ectiv  fj  cikwv  litrayopa,  fiui(p£povaa  vpoaQcacf  did  T)Ttoi  ^tfc 
in  naKpoTcpw     k-  r.  A     Aristotle,  Jthet.  book  iii.  chap.  10 


198  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  III. 

thing  which  he  tramples  under  his  feet."  On  the  other 
hand  it  would  be  haish  and  obscure  to  say,  "  the 
stranded  vessel  lay  shaken  by  the  waves,"  meaning  the 
wounded  Chief  tossing  on  the  bed  of  sickness ;  "it  is 
therefore  necessary  in  such  a  case  to  state  the  I 
blance.  But  this  is  never  to  be  done  more  folly  than 
is  necessary  to  perspicuity;  because  all  men  are  more 
Metaphori-  gratified  at  catching  me  Resemblance  for 
:al  simile,  themselves,  than  at  having  it  pointed  out  to 
them.*  And  accordingly  the  greatest  masters  oi  this 
kind  of  style,  when  the  case  will  not  admit  of  pure 
Metaphor,  generally  prefer  a  mixture  of  Metaphor  with 
Simile  ;  first  pointing  out  the  similitude,  and  after 
employing  metaphorical  terms  which  imply  it;  or  vice 
ainmg  a  Metaphor  by  a  Statement  of  the 
Comparison.  To  take  examples  of  both  kinds  from 
an  Author  who  particularly  excels  in  this  point; 
(speaking  of  a  morbid  Fair 

like  the  bat  of  -Indian  brakes, 

Her  pinions  fan  the  wound  she  makes, 
And  soothing  thu3  the  dreamer's  pain, 
She  drinks  the  life-blood  from  the  vein.f 

The  word  -like''  makes  this  a  Comparison  ;  but  the 
three  succeeding  lines  are  Metaphorical.  Again,  to 
take  an  instance  of  the  other  k;. 

They  melted  from  the  field,  c?  snovr, 
"When  streams  are  swofat,  and  south  winds  I 
Dissolves  in  - . . 

Of  the  words  here  put  in  italics,  the  former  is  a 
Metaphor,  the  latter  introduces  a  Comparison.  Though 
the  instances  here  adduced  are  taken  from  a  Poet,  the 
judicious  management  of  Comparison  which  they  exem- 
plify, is  even  more  essential  to  a  Prose-writer,  to  whom 
less  license  is  allowed  in  the  employment  of  it.  It  is  a 
remark  of  Aristotle,  (Rhct.  book  iii.  chap.  4,)  that  the 
Simile  is  more  suitable  in  Poetry,  and  that  Metaphor  ia 

*  T6  tie,  Rhtt.  book  iii.  chap.  5 

t  Rokeby. 
t  Marmion. 


Chap.  II.  §  3.]         OF  ENERGY.  19? 

the  only  ornament  of  language  in  which  the  orator  may 
freely  indulge.  He  should,  therefore,  be  the  more 
careful  to  bring  a  Simile  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
Metaphorical  form.  The  following  is  an  example  of 
ih"  same  kind  of  expression  :  "  These  metaphysic  rights 
entering  into  common  life,  like  rays  of  light  which 
pierce  into  a  dense  medium,  are,  by  the  laws  of  nature, 
refracted  from  their  straight  line  Indeed,  in  the  gros« 
and  complicated  mass  of  human  passions  and  concerns, 
the  primitive  rights  of  man  undergo  such  a  variety  of 
refractions,  and  reflections,  that  it  becomes  absurd  to 
talk  of  them  as  if  they  continued  in  the  simplicity  of 
their  original  direction."* 

Metaphors  may  be  employed,  as  Aristotle  Elevating 
observes,  either  to  elevate  or  to  degrade  the  or  degrad- 
Bubject,  according  to  the  design  of  the  Au-  !^L^ela' 
thor;  being  drawn  from  similar  or  corres- 
ponding objects  of  a  higher  or  lower  character.  Thus 
a  loud  and  vehement  speaker  may  be  described  either 
as  bellowing  or  as  thundering.  And  in  both  cases,  if 
the  Metaphor  is  apt  and  suitable  to  the  purpose  design- 
ed, it  is  alike  conducive  to  Energy.  He  remarks  that 
the  same  holds  good  with  respect  to  Epithets  also,  which 
may  be  drawn  either  from  the  highest  or  the  lowest  at- 
tributes of  the  thing  spoken  of.  Metonymy  likewise 
(in  which  a  part  is  put  for  a  whole,  a  cause  for  an  ef- 
fect, &c.)  admits  of  a  similar  variety  in  its  application?. 
A  happier  example  cannot  be  found  than  the  one 
which  Aristotle  cites  from  Simonides,  who,  when  offer- 
ed a  small  price  for  an  Ode  to  celebrate  a  victory  in  a 
mu/e-race,  expressed  his  contempt  for  half-asses, 
(tj/mlovol,)  as  they  were  commonly  called;  but  when  a 

larger  sum  was  offered,  addressed  them  in  an  Ode  as 

1  Daughters  of  Steeds  swift-as-the-storm."     utXkonoduv 

ivyaTpec  Imruv. 
Any  Trope  (as  is  remarked  by  Dr.  Campbell)  adds 

Sorce  to  the  expression  when  it  tends  to  fix  the  mind  on 

•  Burke,  on  ihe  French  Revohititn. 


HA)  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  in 

that  part,  or  circumstance,  in  the  object  spoken  of,  which 
is  most  essential  to  the  purpose  in  hand.  Thus,  there 
is  an  Energy  in  Abraham's  Periphrasis  for  "God," 
when  he  is  speaking  of  the  allotment  of  Divine  punish- 
ment: "  shall  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right?" 
Tf  again  we  were  alluding  to  His  omniscience,  it  would 
be  more  suitable  to  say,  "  this  is  known  only  to  the 
Searcher  of  hearts ;"  if,  to  his  power,  we  should  speak 
of  Him  as  "  the  Almighty"  &c. 

Of  Metaphors,  those  generally  conduce  most  to  that 
Energy  or  Vivacity  of  style  we  are  speaking  of,  which 
illustrate  an  intellectual  by  a  sensible  object ;  the  latter 
being  always  the  most  early  familiar  to  the  mind,  and 
generally  giving  the  most  distinct  impression  to  it. 
Thus  we  speak  of  "  unbridled  rage,"  "  deep-rooted  pre- 
judice," "  glowing  eloquence,"  a  "  stony  heart,"  &c. 
And  a  similar  use  may  be  made  of  Metonymy  also :  as 
when  we  speak  of  the  "  Throne,"  or  the  "  Crown"  foi 
"  Royalty," — the  "  sword"  for  "  military  violence,"  &c. 
Personify-  -But  the  highest  degree  of  Energy  (and  to 
ing  Meta-  which  Aristotle  chiefly  restricts  the  term)  is 
phors.  produced  by  such   Metaphors  as  attribute 

life  and  action  to  things  inanimate  ;  and  that,  even  when 
by  this  means  the  last-mentioned  rule  is  violated,  i.  e. 
when  sensible  objects  are  illustrated  by  intellectual.  For 
the  disadvantage  is  overbalanced  by  the  vivid  impres- 
sion produced  by  the  idea  of  personality  or  activity  ;  as 
when  we  speak  of  the  rage  of  a  torrent,  a  furious  storm, 
a  river  disdaining  to  endure  its  bridge,  &c* 

The  figure  called  by  Rhetoricians  Prosopopoeia  (liter- 
ally, Personification,)  is,  in  fact,  no  other  than  a  Meta- 
phor of  this  kind :  thus,  in  Demosthenes,  Greece  is 
represented  as  addressing  the  Athenians.  So  also  in 
the  book  of  Genesis,  (chap.  iv.  ver.  10,)  "the  voice  of 
thy  brother's  blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the  ground  " 

Many  such  expressions,  indeed,  are  in  such  common 
use  as  to  have  lost  all  their  Metaphorical  force,  sine* 

*  Pontemindignalus. 


Cbu*.  II.  §  3.]  OF  ENERGY.  201 

they  cease  to  suggest  the  idea  belonging  to  their  primary 
signification,  and  thus  are  become,  practically,  Proper 
terms.  But  a  new,  or  at  least  unhackneyed,  Metaphor 
oi  this  kind,  if  it  be  not  far-fetched  and  obscure,  adds 
greatly  to  the  force  of  the  expression.  This  was  a  fa- 
vourite figure  with  Homer,  from  whom  Aristotle  has 
cited  several  examples  of  it ;  as  "  the  raging  arrow," 
"  the  darts  eager  to  taste  of  flesh,"*  "  the  shameless," 
(or  as  it  might  be  rendered  with  more  exactness,  though 
with  less  dignity,  "  the  provoking)  stone,"  (Adac 
avacdris,)  which  mocks  the  efforts  of  Sisyphus,  &c. 

Our  language  possesses  one  remarkable  advantage, 
with  a  view  to  this  kind  of  Energy,  in  the  constitution 
of  its  genders.  All  nouns  in  English,  which  express 
objects  that  are  really  neuter,  are  considered  as  strictly 
of  the  neuter  gender ;  the  Greek  and  Latin,  though  pos- 
sessing the  advantage  (which  is  wanting  in  the  lan- 
guages derived  from  Latin)  of  having  a  neuter  gender,  yet 
lose  the  benefit  of  it,  by  fixing  the  masculine  or  feminine 
genders  upon  many  nouns  denoting  things  inanimate  ; 
whereas  in  English,  when  we  speak  of  any  such  object 
in  the  masculine  or  feminine  gender,  that  form  of  ex- 
pression at  once  confers  personality  upon  it.  When 
"  Virtue,"  e  g.  or  our  "  Country,"  are  spoken  of  as 
females,  or  "  Ocean,"  as  a  male,  &c.  they  are,  by  that 
very  circumstance,  personified  ;  and  a  stimulus  is  thus 
given  to  the  imagination,  from  the  very  circumstance, 
that  in  calm  discussion  or  description,  all  of  these  would 
be  neuter ;  whereas  in  Greek  or  Latin,  as  in  French  or 
Italian,  no  such  distinction  could  be  made.  The  em- 
ployment of  "  Virtus"  and  "  'Aper^,"  in  the  feminine 
gender,  can  contribute,  accordingly,  no  animation  to  the 
Style,  when  they  could  not,  without  a  Solecism,  be  em- 
ployed otherwise. 

*  There  is  a  peculiar  aptitude  in  some  of  these  expressions  which 
»he  modern  student  is  very  likely  to  overlook;  an  arrow  or  dart, 
from  its  flying  with  a  spinning  motion,  quivers  violently  when  it  is 
*ixed ;  thus  suggesting  the  idea  of  a  person  trembling  with  eager 
MM 

1C 


202  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pam  53* 

Novelty  in  There  is,  however,  very  little,  compara* 
Metaphor,  tively,  of  Energy  produced  by  any  Meta- 
phor or  Simile  that  is  in  common  use,  and  already 
familiar  to  the  hearer.  Indeed,  what  were  originally 
the  boldast  Metaphors,  arc  become,  by  long  use,  virtu- 
ally, Proper  terms;  (as  is  the  case  with  the  words 
"  source,"  "  reflection,"  &c.  in  their  transferred  senses) 
and  frequently  are  even  nearly  obsolete  in  the  literal 
sense,  as  in  the  words  "  ardour,"  "  acuteness,"  "  rumi- 
nate," **  edification,"*  &c.  If,  again,  a  Metaphor  or 
Simile  that  is  not  so  hackneyed  as  to  be  considered 
common  property,  be  taken  from  any  known  Author, 
it  strikes  every  one,  as  no  less  a  plagiarism  than  if  an 
entire  argument  or  description  had  been  thus  transfer- 
red. And  hence  it  is,  that,  as  Aristotle  remarks,  the 
skilful  employment  of  these,  more  than  of  any  other, 
ornaments  of  language,  may  be  regarded  as  a  "  mark  of 
genius,"  (evepvia?  ctjuuov.)  Not  that  he  means  to  say, 
as  some  interpreters  suppose,  that  this  power  is  entirely 
a  gift  of  nature,  and  in  no  degree  to  be  learnt ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  expressly  affirms,  that  the  "  perception  of 
resemblances,"!  on  which  it  depends,  is  the  fruit  of 
"  Philosophy  ;"t  but  he  means  that  Metaphors  are  not 
to  be,  like  other  words  and  phrases,  selected  from  com- 
mon use,  and  transferred  from  one  composition  to  an- 
other^ but  must  be  formed  for  the  occasion. 
Expiana-  Some  care  is  accordingly  requisite,  in  or- 

tion  of  Me-  der  that  they  may  be  readily  comprehended, 
taphors.  an(j  may  not  ^ave  tne  appearanCe  of  being 
far-fetched  and  extravagant.  For  this  purpose  it  is 
usual  to  combine  with  the  Metaphor  a  Proper  term 
which  explains  it;  viz.  either  attributing  to  the  term  in 
its  transferred  sense,  something  which  does  not  belong 
to  it  in  its  literal  sense ;  or  vice  versa,  denying  of  it  ii 

•  See  Hinds's  "  Three  Scruples  ;"  Preface. 

f  To  Snotov  bp$v.    Aristotle,  Rhet.  book  ii. 

i  'Taov  Ik  <pt\ooo<f>ias.    Aristotle.  Rhet.  book  ii.  and  iii 

I  Ovk  eon  nap'  a\\ov  \afieiv.     Ibid,  book  iii. 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]  OF  ENERGY.  203 

its  transferred  sense,  something  which  does  belong  to  it 
in  its  literal  sense.  To  call  the  Sea  the  "  watery  bul- 
wark "  of  our  island,  would  be  an  instance  of  the  former 
kind ;  an  example  of  the  latter  is  the  expression  of  a 
writer  who  speaks  of  the  dispersion  of  some  hostile 
fleet,  by  the  winds  and  waves,  "  those  ancient  and  un- 
subsidized  allies  of  England." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  the  ob-  Mixed  and 
vious  and  hackneyed  cautions  against  mix-  Complex 
ture  of  Metaphors  ;  and  against  any  that  are  MetaPhor3 
complex  and  far-pursued,  so  as  to  approach  to  Allegory. 

In  reference  to  the  former  of  these  faults,  Dr.  Johnson 
justly  censures  Addison  for  speaking  of  "  bridling  in 
his  muse,  who  longs  to  launch  into  a  nobler  strain  ;" 
"which,"  says  the  critic,  "is  an  act  that  was  never 
restrained  by  a  bridle."  Some,  however,  are  too  fastidi 
ous  on  this  point.  Words,  which  by  long  use  in  a 
transfen^d  sense,  have  lost  nearly  all  their  metaphorical 
force,  may  fairly  be  combined  in  a  manner  which, 
taking  them  literally,  would  be  incongruous.  It  would 
savour  of  hypercriticism  to  object  to  such  an  expression 
as  "  fertile  source." 

In  reference  to  the  other  fault — that  of  the  too  complex 
Metaphor — it  should  be  observed  that  the  more  apt  and 
striking  is  the  Analogy  suggested,  the  more  will  it  have 
of  an  artificial  appearance  ;  and  will  draw  off  the  read- 
er's attention  from  the  subject,  to  admire  the  ingenuity 
displayed  in  the  Style.  Young  writers  of  genius  ought 
especially  to  be  admonished  to  ask  themselves  frequent- 
ly, not  whether  this  or  that  is  a  striking  expression,  but 
whether  it  makes  the  meaning  more  striking  than  an- 
other phrase  would — whether  it  impresses  more  forcibly 
the  sentiment  to  be  conveyed. 

§  4.  Epithets,  in  the  rhetorical  sense,  de- 
note,  not  every  adjective,  but  those  only         pi 
which  do  not  add  to  the  sense,  but  signify  something 
already  implied  in  the  noun  itself ;  as,  if  one  says,  "  the 
glorious  sun :"   on  the  other  hand,  to  speak  of  the 


*04  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     IPaetIII 

"  rising  "  or  "  meridian  sun  "  would  not  be  considered 
as,  in  this  sense,  employing  an  Epithet. 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  some  writers  to  endea- 
vour to  add  force  to  their  expressions  by  accumula- 
ting high-sounding  Epithets,  denoting  the  greatness, 
beauty,  or  other  admirable  qualities  of  the  things  spoken 
of:  but  the  effect  is  generally  the  reverse  of  what  is  in- 
tended. Most  readers,  except  those  of  a  very  vulgar 
or  puerile  taste,  are  disgusted  at  studied  efforts  to  point 
out  and  force  upon  their  attention  whatever  is  remark- 
able; and  this,  even  when  the  ideas  conveyed  are 
themselves  striking.  But  when  an  attempt  is  made  to 
cover  poverty  of  thought  with  mock  sublimity  of  lan- 
guage, and  to  set  off  trite  sentiments  and  feeble  argu- 
ments by  tawdry  magnificence,  the  only  result  is,  that 
a  kind  of  indignation  is  superadded  to  contempt;  as 
when  (to  use  Quinctilian's  comparison)  an  attempt  is 
made  to  supply,  by  paint,  the  natural  glow  of  a  youthful 
and  healthy  complexion. 

"  A  principal  device  in  the  fabrication  of  this  Style," 
(the  mock-eloquent,)  "is  to  multiply  epithets — dry  ep- 
thets,  laid  on  the  outside,  and  into  which  none  of  the 
vitality  of  the  sentiment  is  found  to  circulate.  You  may 
take  a  great  number  of  the  words  out  of  each  page,  and 
find  that  the  sense  is  neither  more  nor  less  for  your 
having  cleared  the  composition  of  these  Epithets  of 
chalk  of  various  colours,  with  which  the  tame  thoughts 
had  submitted  to  be  rubbed  over,  in  order  to  be  made 
fine."* 

We  expect,  indeed,  and  excuse  in  ancient 
style  writers,  as  a  part  of  the  unrefined  simplicity 

of  a  ruder  language,  such  a  redundant  use  of 
Epithets  as  would  not  be  tolerated  in  a  modern,  even  in 
a  translation  of  their  works ;  the  "  white  milk."  and 
"  dark  gore,"  &c.  of  Homer,  must  not  be  retained:  at 
'east,  not  so  frequently  as  they  occur  in  the  original. 
4.r'stotle,  indeed,  gives  us  to  understand  *hat  in  his  tinui 

Foster,  Essay  iv 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]  OF  ENERGY.  205 

this  liberty  was  still  allowed  to  Poets ;  but  later  taste  ig 
more  fastidious.  He  censures,  however,  the  adoption, 
by  prose-writers,  of  this,  and  of  every  other  kind  of  or- 
nament that  might  seem  to  border  on  the  poetical ;  and 
he  bestows  on  such  a  style  the  appellation  of  "frigid" 
(ipvxpdv,)  which,  at  first  sight,  may  appear  somewhat 
remarkable,  (though  the  same  expression,  "  frigid," 
might  very  properly  be  so  applied  in  our  own  language 
also)  because  the  words  "warm"  "glowing,"  and 
such-like  Metaphors,  seem  naturally  applicable  to  poe- 
try. This  very  circumstance,  however,  does  in  reality 
account  for  the  use  of  the  other  expression.  We  are, 
in  poetical  prose,  reminded  of,  and  for  that  reason  dis- 
posed to  miss,  the  "  warmth  and  glow"  of  poetry.  It 
is  on  the  same  principle  that  we  are  disposed  to  speak 
of  coldness  in  the  rays  of  the  moon,  because  they  remind 
us  of  sunshine,  but  want  its  warmth  ;  and  that  (to  use 
an  humbler  and  more  familiar  instance)  an  empty  fire- 
place is  apt  to  suggest  an  idea  of  cold. 

The  use  of  Epithets,  however,  in  prose  composition, 
is  not  to  be  proscribed  ;  as  the  judicious  employment  of 
them  is  undoubtedly  conducive  to  Energy.  It  is 
extremely  difficult  to  lay  down  any  precise  rules  on 
such  a  point.  The  only  safe  guide  in  practice  must  be 
a  taste  formed  from  a  familiarity  with  the  best  authors, 
and  from  the  remarks  of  a  skilful  critic  on  one's  own 
compositions.  It  may,  however,  be  laid  down  as  a 
general  caution,  more  particularly  needful  for  young 
writers,  that  an  excessive  luxuriance  of  style,  and 
especially  a  redundancy  of  Epithets,  is  the  worse  of  the 
two  extremes ;  as  it  is  a  positive  fault,  and  a  very 
offensive  one ;  while  the  opposite  is  but  the  absence  of 
an  excellence. 

It   is  also  an   important  rule,   that  the  Caution 
boldest  and  most  striking,  and  almost  poeti-  against  uni- 
cal,  turns  of  expression,  should  be  reserved  [?rm  bril* 
(as  Aristotle  has  remarked,  book  iii.  chap.  7,)     ancy' 
\o\  '.he  most  impassioned  parts  of  a  discourse ;  and  that 


206  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC        [Pabt  III. 

an  author  should  guard  against  the  vain  ambition  ot 
expressing  every  thing  in  an  equally  high-wrought, 
brilliant,  and  forcible  style.  The  neglect  of  this  caution 
often  occasions  the  imitation  of  the  best  models,  to  prove 
detrimental.  When  the  admiration  of  some  fine  and 
animated  passages  leads  a  young  writer  to  take  those 
passages  for  his  general  model,  and  to  endeavour  to 
make  every  sentence  he  composes  equally  fine,  he  will, 
on  the  contrary,  give  a  flatness  to  the  whole,  and 
destroy  the  effect  of  those  portions  which  would  have 
been  forcible  if  they  had  been  allowed  to  stand  promi- 
nent. To  brighten  the  dark  parts  of  a  picture,  produces 
much  the  same  result  as  if  one  had  darkened  the  bright 
parts;  in  either  case  there  is  a  want  of  relief  and 
contrast ;  and  Composition,  as  well  as  Painting,  has  its 
lights  and  shades,  which  must  be  distributed  with  no 
less  skill,  if  we  would  produce  the  desired  effect.* 
Uses  of  In  no  place,  however,  will  it  be  advisable 

spithets.  to  introduce  any  Epithet  which  does  not 
fulfil  one  of  these  two  purposes;  1st,  to  explain  a 
Metaphor ;  a  use  which  has  been  noticed  under  that 
head,  and  which  will  justify,  and  even  require,  the 
introduction  of  an  Epithet,  which,  if  it  had  been  joined 
to  the  Proper  term,  would  have  been  glaringly  super- 
fluous; thus  iEschylusf  speaks  of  the  "  winged  hound 
of  Jove,"  meaning  the  eagle :  to  have  said  the  "  winged 
eagle,"  would  have  had  a  very  different  effect ;  2dly, 
when  the  Epithet  expresses  something  which,  though 
implied  in  the  subject,  would  not  have  been  likely  to 
Dccur  at  once  spontaneously  to  the  hearer's  mind,  and 
yet  is  important  to  be  noticed  with  a  view  to  the  purpose 
in  hand.  Indeed,  it  will  generally  happen,  that  "he 
Epithets  employed  by  a  skilful  orator,  will  be  foun**  to 
be,  in  fact,  so  many  abridged  arguments,  the  fore*  of 
which  is  sufficiently  conveyed  by  a  mere  hint :  e.  £   »< 

*  Omnia  vult  belle  Matho  dicere  :  die  aliquandfi 

Et  bene  ;  die  neutrum  :  die  aliquando  male. 
t  Prometheus. 


Chap.  II.  §  5.]  OF  ENERGY.  207 

any  one  says,  "  we  ought  to  take  warning  from  the 
bloody  revolution  of  France,"  the  Epithet  suggests  one 
of  the  reasons  for  our  being  warned ;  and  that,  not  less 
clearly,  and  more  forcibly,  than  if  the  argument  had 
been  stated  at  length.* 

§  5.  With  respect  to  the  use  of  Antiqua-  uncommon 
ted,  Foreign,  New-coined,  or  New-corn-  Expression! 
pounded  words,f  or  words  applied  in  an  unusual  sense 
it  may  be  sufficient  to  observe,  that  all  writers,  and 
prose-writers  most,  should  be  very  cautious  and  sparing 
in  the  use  of  them ;  not  only  because  in  excess  they 
produce  a  barbarous  dialect,  but  because  they  are  so 
likely  to  suggest  the  idea  of  artifice ;  the  perception  of 
which  js  most  especially  adverse  to  Energy.  The  oc- 
casional apt  introduction  of  such  a  term  will  sometimes 
produce  a  powerful  effect ;  but  whatever  may  seem  to 
savour  of  affectation,  or  even  of  great  solicitude  and 
study  In  the  choice  of  terms,  will  effectually  destroy 
the  true  effect  of  eloquence.  The  language  which  be- 
trays art,  and  carries  not  an  air  of  simplicity  and  sincer- 
ity, may,  indeed,  by  some  hearers,  be  thought  not  only 
very  fine,  but  even  very  energetic ;  this  very  circum- 
stance, however,  may  be  taken  for  a  proof  that  it  is  not 
so ;  for  if  it  had  been  they  would  not  have  thought 
about  it,  but  would  have  been  occupied,  exclusively, 
with  the  subject.  An  unstudied  and  natural  air,  there- 
fore, is  an  excellence  to  which  the  true  orator,  i.  e.  he 
who  is  aiming  to  carry  his  point,  will  be  ready  to  sac- 
rifice any  other  that  may  interfere  with  it. 

The  principle  here  laid  down  will  espe-  -words 
cially  apply  to  the  choice  of  words,  with  a  considered 
view  to  their  Imitative,  or  otherwise  appro-  as  sound» 

*  See  Part  i.  ch.  Hi.  §  3. 

t  It  is  a  curious  instance  of  whimsical  inconsistency,  that  many 
who,  with  justness,  censure  as  pedantic  the  frequent  introduction 
of  Greek  and  Latin  words,  neither  object  to,  nor  refrain  from,  a 
similar  pedantry  with  respect  to  French  and  Italian. 

This  kind  of  affectation  is  one  "of  the  dangers  "  of  a  little  learn- 
ing ;"  those  who  are  really  good  linguists  are  seldom  so  anxiom 
to  display  their  knowledge. 


263  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Paet  III. 

priate  Sound.  The  attempt  to  make  "the  sound  an 
echo  to  the  sense,"  is  indeed  more  frequently  to  be  met 
with  in  poets  than  in  prose  writers ;  but  it  may  be 
worth  remarking,  that  an  evident  effort  after  this  kind 
of  excellence,  as  it  is  offensive  in  any  kind  of  composi- 
tion, would  in  prose  appear  peculiarly  disgusting. 
Cri'.ics  treating  on  this  subject  have  gone  into  opposite 
extremes;  some  fancifully  attributing  to  words,  or  com 
binations  of  words,  an  imitative  power  far  beyond  what 
they  can  really  possess*  and  representing  this  kind  of 
Imitation  as  deserving  to  be  studiously  aimed  at;  and 
others,  on  the  contrary,  considering  nearly  the  whole  oi 
this  kind  of  excellence  as  no  better  than  imaginary, 
and  regarding  the  examples  which  do  occur,  and  have 
been  cited,  of  a  congruity  between  the  sound  and  the 
sense,  as  purely  accidental. 

The  truth  probably  lies  between  these  two  extremes 
In  the  first  place,  that  words  denoting  sounds,  or  em- 
ployed in  describing  them,  may  be  imitative  of  those 
sounds,  must  be  admitted  by  all ;  indeed,  this  kind  of 
Imitation  is,  to  a  certain  degree,  almost  unavoidable,  in 
our  language  at  least ;  which  abounds,  perhaps  more 
than  any  other,  in  these,  as  they  maybe  called,  natu- 
rally expressive  terms ;  such  as  '•'  hiss,"  1:  rattle," 
"  clatter,"   "  splash,"    and  many  others.f 

In  the  next  place,  it  is  also  allowed  by  most,  that 
quick  or  slow  motion  may,  to  a  certain  degree  at  least, 
be  imitated  or  represented  by  words  ;  many  short  syl- 
lables (unincumbered  by  a  clash  either  of  vowels,  or  of 
consonants  coming  together)  being  pronounced  in  the 

*  Pope  has  accordingly  been  justly  censured  for  his  inconsistency 
in  making  the  Alexandrine  represent  both  a  quick  and  a  slow  mo 
tion:  » 

1.  •  Flies  o*er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skim3  along  the  main.r' 

2.  '•  Which,  like  a  wounded  snake  drags  its  slow  length  along.' 
In  the  first  instance,  he  forgot  that  an  dltxandrine  is  long  from 
contain  irg  more  feet  than  a  common  verse  :  whereas  a  long  hexan* 
tier  has  but  the  same  number  of  feet  as  a  short  one.  and  therefore 
aeing  pronounce!  in  the  same  time,  seems  to  move  more  rapidly. 

t  see  Walks,  dram.  Anglic. 


Chap    II    $  5.]         OF  ENERGY  C09 

same  time  with  a  smaller  number  of  long  syllables, 
abounding  with  these  incumbrances,  the  former  seems 
to  have  a  natural  correspondence  to  a  quick,  and  the 
latter  to  a  slow  motion ;  since  in  the  one  a  greater,  and 
in  the  other  a  less  space,  seem  to  be  passed  over  in  the 
same  time.  In  the  ancient  Poets,  their  hexameter  ver- 
Afis  being  always  considered  as  of  the  same  length,  i.  e 
in  respect  of  the  time  taken  to  pronounce  them,  what- 
ever proportion  of  dactyls  or  spondees  they  contained, 
this  kind  of  Imitation  of  quick  or  slow  motion,  is  the 
more  apparent;  and  after  making  all  allowances  for 
fancy,  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt  that  in  many  in- 
stances it  does  exist ;  as,  e.  g.  in  the  often-cited  line 
which  expresses  the  rolling  of  Sisyphus's  stone  down 
the  hill : 

Avdif  e~cira  iridovSt  kv\Iv$cto  \das  avaiSrjs. 

The  following  passage  from  the  JEneid  can  hardly 
be  denied  to  exhibit  a  correspondence  with  the  slow 
and  quick  motions  at  least,  which  it  describes;  that  of 
the  Trojans  laboriously  hewing  the  foundations  of  a 
tower  on  the  top  of  Priam's  palace,  and  that  of  its  sud- 
den and  violent  fall : 

"  Aggrissi  ferro  ctrcum,  qua  sum  ma  labantcs* 
Juncturds  tabulata  dabant,  divcllimus  altis 
Sedtbus,  impulimttsque,  ea  lapsa  repente  riiinam 
Cum  sotiitu  truhtt,  ct  Danuum  super  agmtna  late 
IncicTit." 

But,  lastly,  it  seems  not  to  require  any  excessive  ex- 
ercise of  fancy  to  perceive,  if  not,  properly  speaking,  an 
Imitation,  by  words,  of  other  things  besides  sound  and 
motion,  at  least,  an  Analogical  aptitude.     That  there  is 

*  The  slow  movement  of  this  line  would  he  much  more  percep- 
tible, if  we  pronounced  (as  doubtless  the  Latins  did)  the  doubled 

consonants;    "  ag-^res  si  far  ro sum-ma:"   but  in  English,  and 

consequently  in  the  English  way  of  reading  Latin  or  Greek,  the 
doubling  of  a  consonant  only  serves  to  fix  the  place  of  the  accent ; 
the  latter  of  the  two  bt  ing  never  pronounced,  except  in  a  very  few 
compound  words  ;  ss  "  innate,"  "  connatural,"  "  poor-rate,"'  "  hop 

17 


eiO  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [1>art  IS 

at  least  an  apparent  Analogy  between  things  sensible, 
and  things  intelligible,  is  implied  by  numberless  Meta- 
phors; as  when  we  speak  of  "rough,  or  harsh,  soft, 
or  smooth,  manners,"  "  turbulent  passions,"  the  "  stroke, 
or  the  storms  of  adversity,"  &c.  Now  if  there  are  any 
words,  or  combinations  of  words,  which  have  in  their 
sound  a  congruity  with  certain  sensible  objects,  there 
is  no  reason  why  they  should  not  have  the  same  con- 
gruity with  those  emotions,  actions,  &c.  to  which  <hese 
sensible  objects  are  analogous.  Especially,  as  it  is 
universally  allowed  that  certain  musical  combinations 
are,  respectively,  appropriate  to  the  expression  of  grief, 
anger,  agitation,  &c 

On  the  whole,  the  most  probable  conclusion  seems  to 
be,  that  many  at  least  of  the  celebrated  passages  that 
are  cited  as  Imitative  in  sound,  were,  on  the  one  hand, 
not  the  result  of  accident,  nor  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  of 
study  ;  but  that  the  idea  in  the  author's  mind  spontane- 
ously suggested  appropriate  sounds ;  thus,  when  Mil- 
ton's mind  was  occupied  with  the  idea  of  the  opening 
of  the  infernal  gates,  it  seems  natural  that  his  expression, 


and  on  their  hinges  grate 


Harsh  thunder," 

should  have  occurred  to  him  without  any  distinct  in- 
tention of  imitating  sounds 

It  will  be  the  safest  rule,  therefore,  for  a  prose-writer 
at  least,  never  to  make  any  distinct  effort  after  this  kind 
of  Energy  of  expression,  but  to  trust  to  the  spontaneous 
occurrence  of  suitable  sounds  on  every  occasion  where 
the  introduction  of  them  is  likely  to  have  good  effect. 
Technical  §  6.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  give  any 
language,  warning,  generally,  against  the  unnecessary 
Introduction  of  Technical  language  of  any  kind,  when 
Ihe  meaning  can  be  adequately,  or  even  tolerably,  ex- 
pressed in  common,  i.  e.  unscientific  words  The  terms 
and  phrases  of  Art  have  an  air  of  pedantic  affectation, 
for  which  they  do  not  compensate,  by  even  the  smallest 


Chap.  11.  §6.]  OF  ENERGY  211 

appearance  of  increased  Energy.*  But  there  rheologi 
is  an  apparent  exception  to  this  rule,  in  the  ca  t7  e" 
case  of  what  may  be  called  the  "Theological  Style;" 
a  peculiar  phraseology,  adopted  more  or  less  by  a  large 
proportion  of  writers  of  Sermons  and  other  religious 
works ;  consisting  partly  of  peculiar  terms,  but  chiefly 
of  common  words  used  in  a  peculiar  sense  or  combina- 
tion, so  as  to  form  altogether  a  kind  of  diction  widely 
differing  from  the  classical  standard  of  the  language.. 
This  phraseology  having  been  formed  partly  from  the 
style  of  some  of  the  most  eminent  Divines,  partly,  and 
to  a  much  greater  degree,  from  that  of  the  Scriptures, 
i.  e.  of  our  Version,  has  been  supposed  to  carry  with  it 
an  air  of  appropriate  dignity  and  sanctity,  which  greatly 
adds  to  the  force  of  what  is  said.  And  this  may,  per- 
haps, be  the  case  when  what  is  said  is  of  little  or  no 
intrinsic  weight,  and  is  only  such  meagre  common-place 
as  many  religious  works  consist  of :  the  associations 
which  such  language  will  excite  in  the  minds  of  those 
accustomed  to  it,  supplying  in  some  degree  the  deficien- 
cies of  the  matter.  But  this  diction,  though  it  may 
serve  as  a  veil  for  poverty  of  thought,  will  be  found  to 
produce  no  less  the  effect  of  obscuring  the  lustre  of  what 
is  truly  valuable  :  if  it  adds  an  appearance  of  strength 
to  what  is  weak,  it  adds  weakness  to  what  is  strong ; 
and  ii  pleasing  to  those  of  narrow  and  ill-cultivated 

*  Of  course  this  rule  does  not  apply  to  avowedly  technical  sys- 
tems of  instruction.  In  such  works  the  usual  and  the  best  rule  is, 
to  employ,  as  far  as  possible,  such  technical  terms  as  custom  has 
already  established  ;  defining,  modifying,  restricting,  extending, 
8tc.  these,  if  uecessary,  as  the  occasion  may  require.  Sometimes, 
nowever,  the  introduction  of  new  ones  will  be  called  for,  either  in 
addition  to  the  others,  or  in  their  stead,  when  there  are  very  strong 
objections  against  these. 

It  is  no  uncommon  trick  with  some  writers  to  invent  and  adopt, 
on  the  slightest  pretext,  complete  new  sets  of  technical  terms,  the 
more  strange  and  uncouth,  the  better  for  their  purpose  ;  and  thus 
to  pass  off  long-known  truths  for  prodigious  discoveries,  and  gain 
the  credit  of  universal  originality  by  the  boldness  of  their  innova- 
tions in  language  :  like  some  voyagers  of  discovery,  who  talc,  pos- 
tession  of  countries,  whether  before-visited  or  not,  by  formully 
giving  them  new  names. 


212  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III. 

minds,  it  is  in  a  still  higher  degree  repulsive  to  person! 
of  taste. 

It  may  be  said,  indeed,  with  truth,  that  the  improve- 
ment of  the  majority  is  a  higher  object  than  the  gratifi- 
cation of  a  refined  taste  in  a  few  ;  but  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  real  Energy,  even  with  respect  to  any  class 
of  hearers,  is  gained  by  the  use  of  such  a  diction  as  that 
of  which  I  am  speaking.  For  it  will  often  be  found 
that  what  is  received  with  great  approbation,  is  yet 
(even  if,  strictly  speaking,  understood)  but  very  little 
attended  to,  or  impressed  upon  the  minds  of  the  hearers 
Terms  and  phrases  which  have  been  long  familiar  tc 
them,  and  have  certain  vague  and  indistinct  notions 
associated  with  them,  men  often  suppose  themselves  to 
understand  much  more  fully  than  they  do ;  and  still 
oftener  give  a  sort  of  indolent  assent  to  what  is  said, 
without  making  any  effort  of  thought. 

It  is  justly  observed  by  Mr.  Foster,  {Essay  iv.)  when 
treating  on  this  subject,  that  "  with  regard  to  a  con- 
siderable proportion  of  Christian  readers  and  hearers,  a 
reformed  language  would  be  excessively  strange  to 
them ;"  but  that  **  its  being  so  strange  to  them,  would 
be  a  proof  of  the  necessity  of  adopting  it,  at  least,  in 
part,  and  by  degrees.  For  the  manner  in  which  some 
of  them  would  receive  this  altered  diction,  would  prove 
that  the  customary  phraseology  had  scarcely  given 
them  any  clear  ideas.  It  would  be  found  that  the 
peculiar  phrases  had  been  not  so  much  the  vehicles  of 
ideas,  as  the  substitutes  for  them.*  These  readers  and 
hearers  have  been  accustomed  to  chime  to  the  sound, 
without  apprehending  the  sense ;  insomuch,  that  if  they 
hear  the  very  ideas  which  these  phrases  signify, 
expressed  ever  so  simply  in  other  language,  they  do 
not  recognise  them." 

*  It  may  be  added  that  many  would  at  once  take  for  granted  that 
any  alteration  in  the  statement  of  any  doctrine,  though  the  phrase! 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  were  avowedly  of  Man's  friming- 
imphes  a  rejection  of  the  doctrine  itself,:  and  they  would  accord 
ingly  raise  a  cry  of  Heresy. 


Chap.  II.  §  6.]  OF  ENERGY.  213 

He  observes  also,  with  much  truth,  that  the  studied 
incorporation  and  imitation  of  the  language  of  the  Scrip- 
tures in  the  texture  of  any  discourse,  neither  indicates 
reverence  for  the  sacred  composition,  nor  adds  to  the 
dignity  of  that  which  is  human  :  but  rather  diminishes 
that  of  such  passages  as  might  be  introduced  from  the 
sacred  writings  in  pure  and  distinct  quotation,  standing 
contrasted  with  the  general  Style  of  the  work. 

Of  the  Technical  terms,  as  they  may  be  called,  of 
Theology,  there  are  many,  the  place  of  which  might 
easily  be  supplied  by  corresponding  expressions  in  com- 
mon use  :  there  are  many,  again,  which  are  remnants 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  School-men,  but  are  employed 
frequently  by  persons  who  know  nothing  of  the  meta- 
physical theories  which  gave  rise  to  the  use  of  such 
terms  :*  there  are  others,  doubtless,  which,  denoting 
ideas  exclusively  belonging  to  the  subject,  could  not  be 
avoided  without  a  tedious  circumlocution ;  these,  there- 
fore, may  be  admitted  as  allowable  peculiarities  of  dic- 
tion; and  the  others,  perhaps,  need  not  be  entirely  dis- 
used ;  but  it  is  highly  desirable  that  both  should  be  very 
frequently  exchanged  for  words  or  phrases  entirely  free 
fr-om  any  technical  peculiarity,  even  at  the  expense  01 
some  circumlocution.  Not  that  this  should  be  done  so 
constantly  as  to  render  the  terms  in  question  obsolete  ; 
but  by  introducing  frequently,  both  the  term,  and  a  sen- 
tence explanatory  of  the  same  idea,  the  evil  just  men- 
tioned— the  habit  of  not  thinking,  or  not  thinking  at- 
tentively, of  the  meaning  of  what  is  said — will  be,  in 
great  measure,  guarded  against ;  the  technical  words 
themselves  will  make  a  more  forcible  expression — and 
the  danger  of  sliding  into  unmeaning  cant  will  be  materi- 
ally lessened.  Such  repetitions,  therefore,  will  more  than 
compensate  for,  or  rather  will  be  exempt  from, any  ap- 
pearance of  tediousness,  by  the  addition  both  of  Perspi- 
euity  and  Energy. 

**  It  must  indeed  be  acknowledged,  that  in  many  cases. 

*  See  Hampden,  Bampton  Led. 


214  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pabt  II- 

innovations  have  been  introduced,  partly  by  the  ceasing 
to  employ  the  words  designating  those  doctrines  which 
were  designed  to  be  set  aside :  but  it  is  probable  they 
may  have  been  still  more  frequently  and  successfully 
introduced  under  the  advantage  of  retaining  the  terms, 
while  the  principles  were  gradually  subverted.  And 
therefore,  since  the  peculiar  words  can  be  kept  to  one 
invariable  signification  only  by  keeping  that  significa- 
tion clearly  in  sight,  by  means  of  something  separate 
from  these  words  themselves,  it  might  be  wise  in  Chris- 
tian authors  and  speakers  sometimes  to  express  the 
ideas  in  common  words,  either  in  connexion  with  the 
peculiar  terms,  or,  occasionally,  instead  of  them. 
Common  words  might  less  frequently  be  applied  as 
affected  denominations  of  things  which  have  their  own 
direct  and  common  denominations ;  and  be  less  fre- 
quently combined  into  uncouth  phrases.  Many  peculiar 
and  antique  words  might  be  exchanged  for  other  single 
words  of  equivalent  signification,  and  in  common  use. 
And  the  small  number  of  peculiar  terms  acknowledged 
and  established,  as  of  permanent  use  and  necessity, 
might,  even  separately  from  the  consideration  of  modi- 
fying the  diction,  be,  occasionally,  with  advantage  to 
the  explicit  declaration  and  clear  comprehension  of 
Christian  truth,  made  to  give  place  to  a  fuller  expression, 
in  a  number  of  common  words,  of  those  ideas  of  which 
they  are  single  signs."* 

It  may  be  asserted,  with  but  too  much  truth,  that  a 
very  considerable  proportion  of  Christians  have  a  habit 
oi  laying  aside  in  a  great  degree  their  common  sense, 
and  letting  it,  as  it  were,  lie  dormant,  when  points  of 
Religion  come  before  them ; — as  if  Reason  were  utterly 
at  variance  with  Religion,  and  the  ordinary  principles 
of  sound  Judgment  were  to  be  completely  superseded 
on  that  subject.  And  accordingly  it  will  be  found,  that 
there  are  many  errors  which  are  adopted — many  tmtha 
which  are  overlooked,  or  not  clearly  understood—  and 

*  Foster,  Essay  iv.  p.  3Q4. 


Chap   II.  §7.]         OF  ENERG5T.  215 

many  difficulties  which  stagger  and  perplex  them — for 
want,  properly  speaking,  of  the  exercise  of  their 
common  sense;  i.  e.  in  cases  precisely  analogous  to 
such  as  daily  occur  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life ;  in 
which  those  very  same  persons  would  form  a  correct, 
clear,  prompt,  and  decisive  judgment.  It  is  well  worthy 
of  consideration,  how  far  the  tendency  to  this  habit 
might  be  diminished  by  the  use  of  a  diction  conformable 
to  the  suggestions  which  have  been  here  thrown  out. 

§  7.  With  respect  to  the  Number  of  words 
employed,  "  it  is  certain,"  as  Dr.  Campbell  fe^Sant 
observes,  "  that  of  whatever  kind  the  senti-  on  the 
ment  be,  witty,  humorous,  grave,  animated,  or  ^ue™ber<j0t 
sublime,  the  more  briefly  it  is  expressed,  the 
Energy  is  the  greater  " — "  As  when  the  rays  of  the  sun 
are  collected  into  the  focus  of  a  burning-glass,  the  smaller 
the  spot  is  which  receives  them  compared  with  the 
surface  of  the  glass,  the  greater  is  the  splendour,  so,  in 
exhibiting  our  sentiments  by  speech,  the  narrower  the 
compass  of  words  is,  wherein  the  thought  is  comprised, 
the  more  energetic  is  the  expression.  Accordingly,  we 
find  that  the  very  same  sentiment  expressed  diffusely, 
will  be  admitted  barely  to  be  just ;  expressed  concisely, 
will  be  admired  as  spirited."  He  afterwards  remarks, 
that  though  a  languid  redundancy  of  words  is  in  all 
cases  to  be  avoided,  the  energetic  brevity  which  is  the 
most  contrary  to  it,  is  not  adapted  alike  to  every  subject 
and  occasion.  "  The  kinds  of  writing  which  are  less 
susceptible  of  this  ornament,  are  the  Descriptive,  the 
Pathetic,  the  Declamatory,*  especially  the  last.  It  is, 
besides,  much  more  suitable  in  writing  than  in  speaking. 
A  reader  has  the  command  of  his  time  ;  he  may  read 
fast  or  slow,  as  he  finds  convenient ;  he  can  peruse  a 
sentence  a  second  time  when  necessary,  or  lay  down 
the  book  and  think.  But  if,  in  haranguing  the  people, 
you  comprise  a  great  deal  in  few  words,  the  hearer 

*  This  remark  is  made,  and  the  principle  of  it  (which  Dr.  Camp» 
k*li  hw  emitted)  subjoined,  in  part  ii,  chap.  ii.  §  2,  of  this  Tren*it« 


216  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  ID 

must  have  uncommon  quickness  of  apprehension  tc 
catch  the  meaning  before  you  have  put  it  out  of  his 
power,  by  engaging  his  attention  to  something  else." 

The  mode  in  which  this  inconvenience  should  be 
obviated,  and  in  which  the  requisite  expansion  may  be 
given  to  any  thing  which  the  persons  addressed  cannot 
comprehend  in  a  very  small  compass,  is,  as  I  have 
already  remarked,  not  so  much  by  increasing  the  num- 
ber of  words  in  which  the  sentiment  is  conveyed  in  each 
sentence,  (though  in  this,  some  variation  must  of  course 
be  admitted,)  as  by  repeating  it  in  various  forms.  The 
uncultivated  and  the  dull  will  require  greater  expansion, 
and  more  copious  illustration  of  the  same  thought,  than 
the  educated  and  the  acute ;  but  they  are  even  still  more 
liable  to  be  wearied  or  bewildered  by  prolixity.  If  the 
material  is  too  stubborn  to  be  speedily  cleft,  we  must 
patiently  continue  our  efforts  for  a  longer  time,  in  order 
to  accomplish  it :  but  this  is  to  be  done,  not  by  making 
each  blow  fall  more  slowly,  which  would  only  enfeeble 
them,  but  by  often-repealed  blows. 
Verbos't  ^  *s   neec^ul  to  insist  the  more  on  th< 

adverse  to  energetic  effect  of  Conciseness,  because  sc 
perspicuity  many,  especially  young  writers  and  speakers 
energy.  are  aPt to  fall  into  a  style  of  pompous  verbo- 
sity, not  from  negligence,  but  from  an  idea  thaf 
they  are  adding  both  Perspicuity  and  Force  to  what  is 
said,  when  they  are  only  incumbering  the  sense  with  a 
needless  load  of  words.  And  they  are  the  more  likely 
to  commit  this,  mistake,  because  such  a  style  will  often 
appear  not  only  to  the  author,  but  to  the  vulgar,  (i.  e. 
the  vulgar  in  intellect,)  among  his  hearers,  to  be  very 
majestic  and  impressive.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  hear 
a  speaker  or  writer  of  this  class,  mentioned  as  having  a 
"  very  fine  command  of  language,"  when,  perhaps,  it 
might  be  said  with  more  correctness,  that  "  his  language 
has  a  command  of  him ;"  i  e.  that  he  follows  a  train  of 
words  rather  than  of  thought,  and  strings  together  all 
the  striking  expressions  that  occur  to  him  on  the  subject, 


Chap.  II.  §  7.]  OF  ENERGY.  217 

instead  of  first  forming-  a  clear  notion  of  the  sense  he 
wishes  to  convey,  and  then  seeking  for  the  most  appro- 
priate vehicle  in  which  to  convey  it.  He  has  but  the 
same  "  command  of  language  "  that  the  rider  has  of  a 
horse  which  runs  away  with  him. 

If,  indeed,  any  class  of  men  are  found  to  be  the  most 
effectually  convinced, persuaded,  or  instructed,  by  a.  tur- 
gid amplification,  it  is  the  orator's  business,  true  to  his 
object,  not  to  criticise  or  seek  to  improve  their  taste,  but 
to  accommodate  himself  to  it.  But  it  will  be  found  that 
this  is  not  near  so  often  the  case  as  many  suppose.  The 
orator  may  often  by  this  kind  of  style  gain  great  admi- 
ration, without  being  the  nearer  to  his  proper  end, 
which  is  to  carry  his  point.  It  will  frequently  happen 
lhat  not  only  the  approbation,  but  the  whole  attention 
of  the  hearers  will  have  been  confined  to  the  Style, 
which  will  have  drawn  their  minds,  not  to  the  subject, 
but  from  it.  In  those  spurious  kinds  of  oratory,  indeed, 
which  have  been  above  mentioned,  (p.  iii.  chap.  ii.  §  4, 
5,  6,)  in  which  the  inculcation  of  the  Subject-matter  is 
not  the  principal  object  proposed,  a  redundancy  of  words 
may  often  be  very  suitable  ;  but  in  all  that  comes  with- 
in the  legitimate  province  of  Rhetoric,  there  is  no  fault 
to  be  more  carefully  avoided.* 

*  "  By  a  multiplicity  of  words  the  sentiment  is  not  set  off  and  ac 
commodated,  but  like  David,  in  Saul's  armour,  it  is  incumbered  and 
oppressed. 

"  Yet  this  is  not  the  only,  or  perhaps  the  worst  consequence  re 
suiting  from  this  manner  of  treating  Sacred  writ ;"  [■paraphrasing] 
"we  are  told  of  the  torpedo,  that  it  has  the  wonderful  quality  oi 
numbing  every  thing  it  touches  ;  a  paraphrase  is  a  torpedo.  By  its 
influence  the  most  vivid  sentiments  become  lifeless,  the  most  sub- 
lime are  flattened,  the  most  fervid  chilled,  the  most  vigorous  ener- 
vated. In  the  very  best  compositions  of  this  kind  that  can  be  ex 
pected,  the  Gospel  may  be  compared  to  a  rich  wine  of  a  high 
flavour,  diluted  in  such  a  quantity  of  water  as  renders  it  extremely 
wrii  '      Campbell,  Rhetoric,  book  iii.  chap.  ii.  §  2. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  to  some  palates  or  stomachs 
a  dilution  may  be  necessary.  Nor  does  Dr.  Campbell  mean,  I  ap- 
prehend, that  there  are  not  many  passages  in  Scripture  which 
require  expansion  with  a  view  to  their  being  fully  comprehend 
ed  by  an  ordinary  reader.    But  a  regular  paraphrase  genera  1$ 


218  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [PartIIL 

It  will  therefore  be  advisable  for  a  tyro  in  composi- 
tion to  look  over  what  he  has  written,  and  to  strike  out 
every  word  and  clause  which  he  finds  will  leave  the 
passage  neither  less  perspicuous  nor  less  forcible  than 
it  was  before  :  "  quamvis  invito,  recedant ;"  remember- 
ing that,  as  has  been  aptly  observed,  "  nobody  knows 
what  good  things  you  leave  out :"  if  the  general  effect 
is  improved,  that  advantage  is  enjoyed  by  the  reader, 
unalloyed  by  the  regret  which  the  author  may  feel  at 
the  omission  of  any  thing  which  he  may  think  in  itself 
excellent. 

But  this  is  not  enough ;  he  must  study  contraction  as 
well  as  omission.  There  are  many  sentences  which 
would  not  bear  the  omission  of  a  single  word  consistent- 
ly with  perspicuity,  which  yet  may  be  much  more  con- 
cisely expressed,  with  equal  clearness,  by  the  employ- 
ment of  different  words,  and  by  recasting  a  great  part 
of  the  expression.  Take  for  example  such  a  sentence 
as  the  following : 

"  A  severe  and  tyrannical  exercise  of  power  must 
become  a  matter  of  necessary  policy  with  Kings,  when 
their  subjects  are  imbued  with  such  princi- 
sionPreS"  pies  as  justify  and  authorize  rebellion ;"  this 
sentence  could  not  be  advantageously,  nor 
to  any  considerable  degree  abridged,  by  the  mere  omis- 
sion of  any  of  the  words  ;  but  it  may  be  expressed  in  a 
much  shorter  compass,  with  equal  clearness  and  far 
greater  energy,  thus ;  "  Kings  will  be  tyrants  from 
policy,  when  subjects  are  rebels  from  principle."* 

The  hints  I  have  thrown  out  on  this  point  coincide 
pretty  nearly  with  Dr.  Campbell's  remark  on  "  Verbo- 
sity," as  contradistinguished  from  "  Tautology ,"f  and 

expands  every  passage,  easy  or  hard,  nearly  to  the  same  degree  •. 
it  applies  a  magnifying-glass  of  equal  power  to  the  gnat  and  to  the 
camel. 

*  Burke. 

t  Tautology,  which  he  describes  as  "  either  a  repetition  of  the 
same  sense  in  different  words,  or  a  representation  of  any  thing  as 
the  cause,  condition,  or  consequence,  of  itself,"  is,  in  most  instan 
•es,  (of  the  latter  kind  at  least,)  accounted  an  offence  rather  against 


Chap.  II.  §  8.]  OF  ENERGY.  219 

from  "  Pleonasm."  "  The  third  and  last  fault  1  shall 
mention  against  vivid  Conciseness  is  Verbosity.  This, 
it  may  be  thought,  coincides  with  the  Pleonasm  already 
discussed.  One  difference  however  is  this  ;  in  the  Pie 
onasm  there  are  words  which  add  nothing  to  the  sense 
in  the  Verbose  manner,  not  only  single  words,  but 
whole  clauses,  may  have  a  meaning,  and  yet  it  were 
better  to  omit  them,  because  what  they  mean  is  unim- 
portant. Instead,  therefore,  of  enlivening  the  expres- 
sion, they  make  it  languish.  Another  difference  is,  that 
in  a  proper  Pleonasm,  a  complete  correction  is  always 
made  by  razing.  This  will  not  always  answer  in  the 
Verbose  style  ;  it  is  often  necessary  to  alter  as  well  as 
blot."* 

§  8.  ft  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  lay  down 
precise  rules  as  to  the  degree  of  Conciseness  nesTtobe 
which  is,  on  each  occasion  that  may  arise,  reconciled 
allowable  and  desirable ;  but  to  an  author  J^h  Per" 
who  is,  in  his  expression  of  any  sentiment,    pi 
wavering  between  the  demands  of  Perspicuity  and  ol 
Energy,  (of  which  the  former  of  course  requires  the 
first  care,  lest  he  should  fail  of  both,)  and  doubting 
whether  the  phrase  which  has  the  most  of  forcible  bre- 
vity, will  be  readily  taken  in,  it  may  be  recommended 
to  use  both  expressions ; — first  to  expand  the  sense,  suf- 
ficiently to  be  clearly  understood,  and  then  to  contract 
it  into  the  most  compendious  and  striking  form.     This 
expedient  might  seem  at  first  sight  the  most  decidedly 
adverse  to  the  brevity  recommended ;  but  it  will  be 
found  in  practice,  that  the  addition  of  a  compressed  and 

correctness  than  brevity  the  example  he  gives  from  Bolingbroke, 
"  how  many  are  there  by  whom  these  tidiiigs  of  good  news  were 
never  heard,"  would  usually  be  reckoned  a  blunder  rather  than  an 
instance  of  prolixity;  like  the  expression  of  "  Sinecure  places 
which  have  no  duty  annexed  to  them."  "  The  Pleonasm,"  he  ob- 
serves, "  implies  merely  superfluity.  Though  the  words  do  not, 
is  in  the  Tautology,  repeat  the  sense,  they  add  nothing  to  it ;  e.  g. 
They  returned  [back  again]  to  the  [same]  city  [from]  whence  they 
came  [forth."]  Campbell,  Rhetoric,  book  iii.  chap.  ii.  §  2. 
9  Campbell,  Rhetoric,  book.  iii.  chap.  ii.  sec.  2,  part  iii. 


220  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III. 

pithy  expression  of  the  sentiment,  which  has  been  al- 
ready stated  at  greater  length,  will  produce  the  effect  of 
brevity.  For  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  it  is  not  on 
account  of  the  actual  number  of  words  that  diffuseness 
is  to  be  condemned,  (unless  one  were  limited  to  a  cer- 
tain space,  or  time,)  but  to  avoid  the  flatness  and  te- 
diousness  resulting  from  it ;  so  that  if  this  appearance 
can  be  obviated  by  the  insertion  of  such  an  abridged 
repetition  as  is  here  recommended,  which  adds  poig- 
nancy and  spirit  to  the  whole,  Conciseness  will  be* 
piactically,  promoted  by  the  addition.  The  hearers 
will  be  struck  by  the  forcibleness  of  the  sentence  which 
they  will  have  been  prepared  to  comprehend;  they 
will  understand  the  longer  expression,  and  remembei 
the  shorter.  But  the  force  will,  in  general,  be  totally 
destroyed,  or  much  enfeebled,  if  the  order  be  reversed ; 
— if  the  brief  expression  be  put  first,  and  afterwards  ex- 
panded and  explained ;  for  it  loses  much  of  its  force 
if  it  be  not  clearly  understood  the  moment  it  is  uttered; 
and  if  it  be,  there  is  no  need  of  the  subsequent  expan- 
sion. The  sentence  recently  quoted  from  Burke,  as  an 
instance  of  energetic  brevity,  is  in  this  manner  brought 
in  at  the  close  of  a  more  expanded  exhibition  of  the 
sentiment,  as  a  condensed  conclusion  of  the  whole. 
'•  Power,  of  some  kind  or  other,  will  survive  the  shock 
in  which  manners  and  opinions  perish  ;  and  it  will  find 
other  and  worse  means  for  its  support.  The  usurpation 
which,  in  order  to  subvert  ancient  institutions,  has  de- 
stroyed ancient  principles,  will  hold  power  by  arts  sim- 
ilar to  those  by  which  it  has  acquired  it.  When  the 
old  feudal  and  chivalrous  spirit  of  fealty,  which,  by 
by  freeing  kings  from  fear,  freed  Hfcth  kings  and  sub- 
jects from  the  precaution  of  tyranny,  shall  be  extinct 
in  the  minds  of  men,  plots  and  assassinations  will  be 
anticipated  by  preventive  murder  and  preventive  confis- 
cation, and  that  long  roll  of  grim  and  bloody  maxims, 
which  form  the  political  code  of  all  Power,  not  stand- 
ing on  its  own  honour,  and  the  honour  of  those  who 


ftlUF.  II.  §  8.]  OF  ENERGY.  291 

are  to  obey  it.  Kings  will  lie  tyrants  from  policy  when 
subjects  arc  rebels  from  principle."* 

The  BaiAC  writer,  ill  another  passage  of  the  same 
work,  has  a  paragraph  in  like  manner  closed  and  sum- 
med tip  by  a  striking  metaphor,  (which  will  often  pro\  e 
the  mo^f  concise,  as  well  as  in  other  respects  striking, 

form  of   expression.)  such   as  would  not   have  heen    SO 

readily  taken  in  if  placed  at  the  beginning.  "To  avoid, 
therefore,  the  evil?  of  inconstancy  and  versatility,  ten 
thousand  tune-  worse  than  those  of  obstinacy  and  the 

blindest  prejudice,  we  haTe  consecrated  the  State,  that 
no  man  should  approach  to  look  into  its  defects  or  cor- 
ruptions but  with  due  caulion  ;  that  he  should  never 
dream  of  beginning  its  reformation  by  its  subversion*; 

that  he  should  approach  to  the  faults  of  the  State  ns  to 
the  wounds  of  a  father,  with  pious  awe  and  trembling 
solicitude.  By  this  wise  prejudice  we  an;  taught  to 
look  with  horror  on  those  children  of  their  country  who 
are  prompt  rashly  to  hack  that  aged  parent  in  pieces, 
and  put  him  into  the  kettle  of  musicians,  m  hopes  that 
by  their  poisonous  weeds,  and  wild  incantations,  they 
may  regenerate  the  paternal  constitution,  and  renovate 
their  father's  life."f 

This,  however,  being  an  instance  of  what  may  be 
called  the  classical  Metaphor,  no  preparation  or  explana- 
tion, even  though  sufficient  to  make  it  intelligible,  could 
lender  it  very  striking  to  those  not  thoroughly  and 
early  familiar  with  the  ancient  fables  of  Medea. 

The  Preacher  lues  aconsiderable  resource,  of  an  ana- 
logous kind,  in  similar  allusions  toll."  history,  descrip- 
tion-, parables,  &c.  of  SCKIPTURE,  wLich  wil1  oOen 
furnish  useful  illustrations  and  forcible  metaphors,  n 
an  address  to  those  well  acquainted  with  the  riible, 
though  these  would  be  frequently  unintelligible,  anc 

*  Burke,  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  Fiance,  IVorks,  vol.  T 
p    168. 

t  Burke,  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France,  Works,  vol.  f 
p.  183 


222  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Paet  III. 

always  comparatively  feeble,  to  persons  not  fam:liar 
with  Scripture.* 

style  of  Dr.  So  great,  indeed,  is  the  effect  of  a  skilful 
Johnson.  interspersion  of  short,  pointed,  forcible  sen- 
tences, that  even  a  considerable  violation  of  some  of  the 
foregoing  rules  may  be,  by  this  means,  in  a  great  degree, 
concealed;  and  vigour  may  thus  be  communicated  (if 
vigour  of  thought  be  not  wanting)  to  a  style  chargeable 
even  with  tautology.  This  is  the  case  with  much  of 
the  language  of  Dr.  Johnson,  who  is  certainly  on  the 
whole  an  energetic  writer ;  though  he  would  have  been 
much  more  so,  had  not  an  over-attention  to  the  round- 
ness and  majestic  sound  of  his  sentences,  and  a  delight 
in  balancing  one  clause  against  another,  led  him  so 
frequently  into  a  faulty  redundancy.  Take,  as  an  in- 
stance, a  passage  in  his  life  of  Prior,  which  may  be 
considered  as  a  favourable  specimen  of  his  style  :  "  So- 
lomon is  the  work  to  which  he  intrusted  the  protection 
of  his  name,  and  which  he  expected  succeeding  ages  to 
regard  with  veneration.  His  affection  was  natural ;  it 
had  undoubtedly  been  written  with  great  labour ;  and 
who  is  willing  to  think  that  he  has  been  labouring  in 
vain  ?  He  had  infused  into  it  much  knowledge,  and 
much  thought ;  had  often  polished  it  to  elegance,  often 
dignified  it  with  splendour,  and  sometimes  heightened 
it  to  sublimity ;  he  perceived  in  it  many  excellences, 
and  did  not  discover  that  it  wanted  that  without  which 
all  others  are  of  small  avail,  the  power  of  engaging 
attention  and  alluring  curiosity.  Tediousness  is  the 
most  fatal  of  all  faults ;  negligences  or  errors  are  single 
or  local ;  but  tediousness  pervades  the  whole ;  other 
faults  are  censured  and  forgotten,  but  the  power  of 
tediousness  propagates  itself.  He  that  is  weary  the 
first  hour,  is  more  weary  the  second ;  as  bodies  forced 
into  motion  contrary  to  their  tendency,  pass  more  and 
more  slowly  through  every  successive  interval  of  space. 
Unhappily  this  pernicious  failure  is  that  which  *-- 
•  See  Appendix,  [M.] 


Chap.  II.  §  8.]  OF  ENERGY.  221 

author  is  least  able  to  discover.  We  are  seldom  tire- 
some to  ourselves ;  and  the  act  of  composition  fills  and 
delights  the  mind  with  change  of  language  and  succes- 
sion of  images :  every  couplet  when  produced  is  new ; 
and  novelty  is  the  great  source  of  pleasure.  Perhaps 
no  man  ever  thought  a  line  superfluous  when  he  first 
wrote  it ;  or  contracted  his  work  till  his  ebullitions  of 
invention  had  subsided." 

It  would  not  have  been  just  to  the  author,  nor  even 
so  suitable  to  the  present  purpose,  to  cite  less  than  the 
whole  of  this  passage,  which  exhibits  the  characteristic 
merits,  even  more  strikingly  than  the  defects,  of  the 
writer.  Few  could  be  found  in  the  works  of  Johnson, 
and  still  fewer  in  those  of  any  other  writer,  more 
happily  and  forcibly  expressed ;  yet  it  can  hardly  be 
denied  that  the  parts  here  distinguished  by  italics  are 
chargeable,  more  or  less,  with  Tautology. 

It  happens,  unfortunately,  that  Johnson's 
style  is  particularly  easy  of  imitation,  even  jj}**^*  of 
by  writers  utterly  destitute  of  his  vigour  of 
thought ;  and  such  imitators  are  intolerable.  They 
bear  the  same  resemblance  to  their  model,  that  the 
armour  of  the  Chinese,  as  described  by  travellers,  con- 
sisting of  thick  quilted  cotton  covered  with  stiff  glazed 
paper,  does  to  that  of  the  ancient  knights ;  equally 
glittering,  and  bulky,  but  destitute  of  the  temper  and 
firmness  which  was  its  sole  advantage.  At  first  sight, 
indeed,  this  kind  of  style  appears  far  from  easy  of 
attainment;  on  account  of  its  being  remote  from  the 
colloquial,  and  having  an  elaborately  artificial  appear- 
ance; but  in  reality,  there  is  none  less  difficult  to 
acquire.  To  string  together  substantives,  connected  by 
conjunctions,  which  is  the  characteristic  of  Johnson's 
style,  is,  in  fact,  the  rudest  and  clumsiest  mode  oi 
expressing  our  thoughts :  we  have  only  to  find  names 
for  our  ideas,  and  then  put  them  together  by  connec- 
tives, instead  of  interweaving,  or  rather  felting  then* 
together,  by  a  due  admixture  of  verbs,  participles,  pre 


224  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pakt  III 

positions,  &c.  So  that  this  way  of  writing,  as  contrasted 
with  the  other,  may  be  likened  to  the  primitive  rude 
carpentry,  in  which  the  materials  were  united  by  coarse 
external  implements,  pins,  nails,  and  cramps,  when 
compared  with  that  art  in  its  most  improved  state,  after 
the  invention  of  dovetail-joints,  grooves,  and  mortices, 
when  the  junctions  are  effected  by  forming  properly  the 
extremities  of  the  pieces  to  be  joined,  so  as  at  once  to 
consolidate  and  conceal  the  juncture. 
Various  If  any  one  will  be  at  the  pains  to  compare 

proportions  a  few  pages,  taken  from  almost  any  part  of 
tirinnaS-  Johnson's  Works,  with  the  same  quantity 
ferent  from  any  other  of  our  admired  writers,  noting 

styles.  down  the  number  of  substantives  in  each,  he 

will  be  struck  with  the  disproportion.  This  would  be 
still  greater,  if  he  were  to  examine  with  the  same  view 
an  equal  portion  of  Cicero ;  but  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  the  genius  of  the  Latin  language  allows  and 
requires  a  much  smaller  proportion  of  substantives  than 
are  necessary  in  our  own  :  especially  such  as  express 
qualities  in  the  abstract. 

§  9.  In  aiming  at  a  concise  Style,  how- 
fivf?tvie.  ever> care  must  °f  course  be  taken  that  it  be 
not  crowded.  The  frequent  recurrence  of 
considerable  ellipses,  even  when  obscurity  does  not 
result  from  them,  will  produce  an  appearance  of  affected 
and  laborious  compression,  which  is  offensive.  The 
author  who  is  studious  of  energetic  brevity,  should  aim 
at  what  may  be  called  a  suggestive  style  ;  such,  that  is, 
as,  without  making  a  distinct,  though  brief,  mention  of 
a  multitude  of  particulars,  shall  put  the  hearer's  mind 
into  the  same  train  of  thought  as  the  speaker's,  and 
suggest  to  bim  more  than  is  actually  expressed. 

Such  a  *tyK  may  be  compared  to  a  good  map,  whicn 
ma-k*  distinct!)  the  great  outlines,  setting  down  the 
pUffipal  nvevs,  towns  mountains,  &c-,  leaving  the 
imagination  to  suppiy  the  villagns,  nillocks,  and 
streamlets     which,  if  they  were  a^f  inserted  in  their 


Chap.  II.  §  9.]  OF  ENERGY.  225 

due  proportions,  would  crowd  the  map,  though  after  all 
they  could  not  be  discerned  without  a  microscope. 

Aristotle's  style,  which  is  frequently  so  elliptical  as 
to  be  dry  and  obscure,  is  yet  often,  at  the  very  same 
time,  unnecessarily  diffuse,  from  his  enumerating  much 
that  the  reader  would  easily  have  supplied,  if  the  rest 
had  been  fully  and  forcibly  stated.  He  seems  to  have 
regarded  his  readers  as  capable  of  going  along  with  him 
readily,  in  the  deepest  discussions,  but  not,  of  going 
beyond  him,  in  the  most  simple ;  i.  e.  of  filling  up  his 
meaning,  and  inferring  what  he  does  not  actually 
express ;  so  that  in  many  passages  a  free  translator 
might  convey  his  sense  in  a  shorter  compass,  and  yet 
in  a  less  cramped  and  elliptical  diction.  A  particular 
statement,  example,  or  proverb,  of  which  the  general 
application  is  obvious,  will  often  save  a  long  abstract 
rule,  which  needs  much  explanation  and  limitation ; 
and  will  thus  suggest  much  that  is  not  actually  said ; 
thus  answering  the  purpose  of  a  mathematical  diagram, 
which,  though  itself  an  individual,  serves  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  a  class.  Slight  hints  also  respecting  the 
subordinate  branches  of  any  subject,  and  notices  of  the 
principles  that  will  apply  to  them,  &c.  may  often  be 
substituted  for  digressive  discussions,  which,  though 
laboriously  compressed,  would  yet  occupy  a  much 
greater  space.  Judicious  divisions  likewise  and  classi- 
fications, save  much  tedious  enumeration  ;  and,  as  has 
been  formerly  remarked,  a  well-chosen  epithet  may 
often  suggest,  and  therefore  supply  the  place  of,  an 
entire  argument. 

It  would  not  be  possible,  within  a  moderate  compass, 
to  lay  down  precise  rules  for  the  suggestive  kind  of 
writing  I  am  speaking  of ;  but  if  the  slight  hints  here 
given  are  sufficient  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  object  to 
be  aimed  at,  practice  will  enable  a  writer  gradually  to 
form  the  habit  recommended.  It  may  be  worth  while, 
however,  to  add,  that  those  accustomed  to  rational  con- 
ver$atio?i,  will  find  in  that,  a  very  useful  exercise,  with 
18 


226  ELEMENTS  CF  RHETORIC.     [Pabt  lit 

a  view  to  this  point,  (as  well  as  to  almost  every  other 
connected  with  Rhetoric ;)  since,  in  conversation,  a  man 
naturally  tries  first  one  and  then  another  mode  of  ex- 
pressing his  thoughts,  and  stops  as  soon  as  he  perceives 
that  his  companion  fully  comprehends  his  sentiments, 
and  is  sufficiently  impressed  with  them. 

§  10.  I  have  dwelt  the  more  earnestly  on  the  head  of 
Conciseness,  because  it  is  a  quality  in  which  young 
writers  (who  are  the  most  likely  f*>  seek  for  practical 
benefit  in  a  Treatise  of  this  kind)  are  usually  most  de- 
ficient ;  and  because  it  is  commonly  said  that,  in  them, 
exuberance  is  a  promising  sign;  without  sufficient  care , 
being  taken  to  qualify  this  remark,  by  adding,  that  this 
over-luxuriance  must  be  checked  by  judicious  pruning. 
If  an  early  proneness  to  redundancy  be  an  indication  of 
natural  genius,  those  who  possess  this  genius  should  be 
the  more  sedulously  on  their  guard  against  that  fault. 
And  those  who  do  not,  should  be  admonished  that 
the  want  of  a  natural  gift  cannot  be  supplied  by  copy- 
ing its  attendant  defects. 

The  praises  which  have  been  bestowed  on 
ness°US"  Copiousness  of  diction,  have  probably  tended 
dependent  to  mislead  authors,  into  a  cumbrous  verbosity. 
s'^n^6*1"  ^  s^ou^  De  remembered,  that  there  is  no  real 
Copiousness  in  a  multitude  of  synonymes 
and  circumlocutions.  A  house  would  not  be  the  better 
furnished  for  being  stored  with  ten  times  as  many  of 
some  kinds  ol  articles  as  were  needed,  while  it  was 
perhaps  destitute  of  those  required  for  other  purposes , 
nor  was  Lucullus's  wardrobe,  which,  according  to 
Horace,  boasted  five  thousand  mantles,  necessarily  well 
stocked,  if  other  articles  of  dress  were  wanting.  The 
completeness  of  a  library  does  not  consist  in  the  number 
of  volumes,  especially  if  many  of  them  are  duplicates; 
but  in  its  containing  copies  of  each  of  the  most  valuable 
works.  And  in  like  manner,  true  Copiousness  of  lan- 
guage consists  in  having  at  command,  as  far  as  possible, 
a  suitable  expression  for  each  different  modification  cj 


Chap.  II.  §  11.]  OF  ENERGY.  227 

thought,  This,  consequently,  will  often  save  much  cir 
cumlocution ;  so  that  the  greater  our  command  of  Ian 
guage,  the  more  concisely  we  shall  be  enabled  to  write. 

In  an  author  who  is  attentive  to  these  principles,  dif 
fuseness  may  be  accounted  no  dangerous  fault  of  style, 
because  practice  will  gradually  correct  it ;  but  it  is  oth- 
erwise with  one  who  pleases  himself  in  stringing  to- 
gether weli-sounding  words  into  an  easy,  flowing,  and 
(falsely  called)  copious  style,  destitute  of  nerve ;  and 
who  is  satisfied  with  a  small  portion  of  matter;  seeking 
to  increase,  as  it  were,  the  appearance  of  his  wealth  by 
hammering  out  his  metal  thin.  This  is  far  from  a  cura- 
ble fault.  When  the  style  is  fully  formed  in  other  re- 
spects, pregnant  fulness  of  meaning  is  seldom  superadded; 
but  when  there  is  a  basis  of  energetic  condensation  of 
thought,  the  faults  of  harshness,  baldness,  or  even  ob- 
scurity, are  much  more  likely  \o  be  remedied.  Solid 
gold  may  be  new  moulded  and  polished ;  but  what  can 
give  solidity  to  gilding  ? 

§  11.  Lastly,  the  Arrangement  of  words  Energy  de- 
may  be  made  highly  conducive  to  Energy,  pendent  on 
The  importance  of  an  attention  tc  this  point,  *^|  "rang0 
with  a  view  to  Perspicuity,  has  been  already 
noticed  ;  but  of  two  sentences  equally  perspicuous,  and 
consisting  of  the  very  same  words,  the  one  may  be  a 
feeble  and  languid,  the  other  a  striking  and  energetic 
expression,  merely  from  the  difference  of  Arrangement. 

Some,  among  the  moderns,  are  accustomed 
to  speak  of  the  natural  order  of  the  words  in       ^rder'o^ 
a  sentence,  and  to  consider,  each,  the  estab-       words, 
lished  arrangement  of  his  own  language  as 
the  nearest  to  such  a  natural  order ;  regarding  that  which 
prevails  in  Latin  and  in  Greek  as  a  sort  of  deranged  and 
irregular  structure.     We  are  apt  to  consider  that  as  most 
natural  and  intrinsically  proper,  which  is  the  most  fa- 
miliar to  ourselves  ;  but  there  seems  no  good  ground  for 
asserting,  that  the  customary  structure  of  sentences  in 
the  ancient  languages  is  less  natural,  or  less  suitable  lor 


228  ELEMENTS  CF  RHETORIC.     [rART  III 

the  purposes  for  which  language  is  employed,  than  in 
the  modern.  Supposing  the  established  order  in  English 
or  in  French,  for  instance,  to  be  more  closely  conformed 
to  the  grammatical  or  logical  analysis  of  a  sentence,  thai 
that  01  Latin  or  Greek,  because  we  place  the  Subject  first, 
the  Copula  next,  and  the  Predicate  last,  &c,  it  does  ivot 
follow  that  such  an  arrangement  is  necessarily  the  best 
fitted  in  every  case,  to  excite  the  attention,  to  direct  it  to 
the  most  essential  points — to  gratify  the  imagination 
— or  to  affect  the  feelings.  It  is,  surely  the  natural 
object  of  language  to  express  as  strongly  as  possil  le 
the  speaker's  sentiments,  and  to  convey  the  same  to 
the  hearers  ;  and  that  arrangement  of  words  may 
fairly  be  accounted  the  most  natural,  by  which  aH 
men  are  naturally  led,  as  far  as  the  rules  of  thtir  re- 
spective languages  allow  them,  to  accomplish  this  ob- 
ject. The  rules  of  many  of  the  modern  languages  do 
indeed  frequently  confine  an  author  to  an  order  which 
he  would  otherwise  never  have  chosen  ;  but  what 
translator  of  any  taste  would  ever  voluntarily  alter  the 
arrangement  of  the  words  in  such  a  sentence  as  hLeyaki, 
i]  "Apre/itc  'Efeoiov,  which  our  language  allows  us  tr 
render  exactly,  "  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians  !" 
How  feeble  in  comparison  is  the  translation  of  Le  Clerc- 
"La  Diane  des  Ephisiens  est  une  grande  DtcsreJ' 
How  imperfect  that  of  Beausobre,  "  La  grande  Diane 
des EphJsiens /"  How  undignified  that  of  Saci,  "Vive 
la  grande  Diane  des  Ephesicns  !" 

Advantage  Our  language  indeed  is,  though  to  a  less 
in  point  of  degree,  very  much  hampered  by  the  same  re- 
mentfn'the  strictions  ;  it  being  in  general  necessary,  for 
ancient  lan-  the  expression  of  the  sense,  to  adhere  to  an 
guages.  order  which  may  not  be  in  other  respects  the 
most  eligible :  "  Cicero  praised  Caesar,"  and  "  Caesai 
praised  Cicero,"  would  be  two  very  different  proposi- 
tions; the  situation  of  the  words  being  all  that  indicates, 
(from  our  want  of  Cases,)  which  is  to  be  taken  as  the 
nominative,  and  which  as  the  accusative ;  but  such  a 


Chap.  II.  §  11.]         OF  ENERGY  229 

restriction  ia  far  from  being  an  advantage    'Mi'-  trans* 
position  "i  words  which  the  ancieni  languages  admil 

Of,  (•(iiifiiif.es,  not  meiely  If)  v;u iely,  hul   to  ESnei gy ,  and 
even  to  Preci  ion. 

If,  for  in  tance,  a  Roman  had  been  directing  the  atten- 
tion of  his  hearer  ■  to  the  circuno  tance  thai  even  Ca  m 
had  been  the  objeel  of  Cicero's  praise,  he  would,  most 
likely,  have  pul  "  ( '•<•  irem  '  first ;  but  be  would  have 
put  "Cicero"  first,  ii  he  had  been  remarking  that,  not 
jnly  others,  but  even  he  had  prai  ed  ( !a  ai 

It  is  for  want,  of  this  Liberty  of  Arrange^ 
rueiii.  that  we  we  often  compelled  to  mark  l;',',1,1,,1 ';''"'' 
■lie  emphatic  words  of  our  sentence  i  by  the 
voice,  in  speaking,  and  byitalics,in  writing;  which 
would,  in  Greek  01  in  Latin,  be  plainly  indicated,  in 
no  1  instance  ,  by  tlje  collocation  alone.  The  sentence 
,vln<  h  ha  1  been  often  brought  forward  a  an  example 
)f  the  varieties  of  expression  winch  may  be  given  to 
•he  ■tine,  words,  '<  Will  you  rule  w>  London  to-morrow  ■'',, 
win!  which  may  be  pronounced  and  understood  in  at 
least  five  different  ways,  according  a  1  the  first,  second, 
Sec.  of  the  words  is  printed  in  italics,  would  be,  by  a 
Latin  orGreelc  writer,  arranged  in  as  many  different 
ordei  jo.ni  ver  these  several  intentions.  Theadvan* 
tage  thu  gained  mu  1  be  evident  to  any  one  who  con* 
how  impoi  tanl  the  object  1  1  w  huh  1 .  thus  accom* 
jili  bed,  and  foi  the  akeoi  winch  we  are  often  com- 
pelled  to  resort  to  Mich  clumsy  expedients ,  it  is  like 
the  proper  dii  tribution  of  the  lights  in  a  pw  ture ;  winch 
1  hardf)  oi  le  scon  equence  than  the  correct  and  lively 
reprc  entation  of  the  objeel  1. 

The.  4th  book  of  Q.  Curtius  begins  with  a  pa  age 
winch  affords  a  good  instance  of  the  energetic  effect 
produced  l»y  a  skilful  u  e  of  the  licence  oi  the  Latin 
arrangement:  "Darius  tanti  modo  exercitui  rex, qui 
triuinphantis  magis  quam  dimicanti  1  more,  curru  ubli- 
mis  1111e1.1i  pnslium,  pei  loca  qua!  prope  immensis  agmi* 
*  Im  f."t'i'-,  book  ii.  chap.  4.  •>  1. 


230  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

nibus  compleverat,  jam  inania,  et  ingenti  solitudine 
vasta,  fugiebat."  The  effect  of  the  concluding  verb, 
placed  where  it  is,  is  most  striking, 
italics  and  It  must  be  the  aim  then  of  an  author,  who 
underscor-  would  write  with  Energy,  to  avail  himself 
,ng"  of  all  the  liberty  which  our  language  does 

allow,  so  to  arrange  his  words  that  there  shall  be  the 
least  possible  occasion  for  underscoring  and  italics ;  and 
this,  of  course,  must  be  more  carefully  attended  to  by 
the  writer  than  by  the  speaker  ;  who  may,  by  his  mode 
of  utterance,  conceal,  in  great  measure,  a  defect  in  this 
point.  It  may  be  worth  observing,  however,  that  some 
writers,  having  been  taught  that  it  is  a  fault  of  style  to 
require  many  of  the  words  to  be  in  italics,  fancy  they 
avoid  the  fault,  by  omitting  those  indications  where  they 
are  really  needed  ;  which  is  no  less  absurd  than  to  at- 
tempt remedying  the  intricacies  of  a  road  by  removing 
the  direction  posts.*  The  proper  remedy  is,  to  endea- 
vour so  to  construct  the  style,  that  the  collocation  of 
the  words  may,  as  far  as  is  possible,  direct  the  attention 
to  those  which  are  emphatic. 

And  the  general  maxim  that  should  chiefly  guide  us, 
is,  as  Dr.  Campbell  observes,  the  homely  saying, 
"  Nearest  the  heart,  nearest  the  mouth  ;"  the  idea, 
which  is  the  most  forcibly  impressed  on  the  author's 
mind,  will  naturally  claim  the  first  utterance,  as  nearly 
as  the  rules  of  the  language  will  permit.  And  it  will 
be  found  that,  in  a  majority  of  instances,  the  most  Em- 
phatic word  will  be  the  Predicate ;  contrary  to  the  rule 
which  the  nature  of  our  language  compels  us,  in  most 
instances,  to  observe.  It  will  often  happen,  however, 
that  we  do  place  the  Predicate  first,  and  obtain  a  great 
increase  of  Energy  by  this  arrangement.  Of  this  licence 
our  translators  of  the  Bible  have,  in  many  instances, 

*  The  censure  of  frequent  and  long  Parentheses  also  leads  some 
writers  into  the   like  preposterous  expedient  of  leaving  out  th« 
marks  ( )  by  which  they  are  indicated,  and  substituting  commas 
instead  of  so  framing  each  sentence  that  they  shall  not  be  needed 
It  is  no  cure  to  a  lame  man,  to  take  away"  his  crutches. 


Chap.  II.  §  12.]         OF  ENERGY.  2« 

very  happily  availed  themsehes;  as,  e.  g  in  the  sen. 
tence  lately  cited,  "  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians;" 
so  also,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord :"  it  is  evident  how  much  this  would  be  enfeebled 
by  altering  the  arrangement  into  "  He  that  cometh  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  is  blessed."  And,  again,  "  Silver 
and  Gold  have  I  none ;  but  what  I  have,  that  give  I 
unto  thee."*  Another  passage,  in  which  they  might 
advantageously  have  adhered  to  the  order  of  the  origi- 
nal, is,  "  "Etvegev,  eizeos  BafSvTiuv,  rj  fisydlTi^j  which 
would  certainly  have  been  rendered  as  correctly,  and 
more  forcibly,  as  well  as  more  closely,  "  Fallen,  fallen 
is  Babylon,  that  great  city,"  than,  "  Babylon  is  fallen, 
is  fallen." 

The  word  "IT"  is  frequently  very  ser- 
viceable in  enabling  us  to  alter  the  arrange-  ^ordlT6 
ment :  thus,  the  sentence,  "  Cicero  praised 
Caesar,"  which  admits  of  at  least  two  modifications  of 
sense,  may  be  altered  so  as  to  express  either  of  them, 
by  thus  varying  the  order  :  "  It  was  Cicero  that  praised 
Caesar,"  or,  "  It  was  Ceesar  that  Cicero  praised."  "  IT  " 
%  in  this  mode  of  using  it,  the  representative  of  the 
Subject,  which  it  thus  enables  us  to  place,  if  we  will, 
after  the  Predicate. 

Of  whatever  gender  or  number  the  subject  referred 
to  may  be,  "  IT  "  may,  with  equal  propriety,  be  employ- 
ed to  represent  that  subject.  Our  translators  of  the 
Bible  have  not  scrupled  to  make  "  IT  "  refer  to  a  mas- 
culine noun  :  "  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid;"  but  they  seem  to 
have  thought  it  not  allowable,  as  perhaps  it  was  not, 
at  the  time  when  they  wrote,  to  make  such  a  reference 
to  a  plural  noun.  "  Search  the  Scriptures — they  are 
they  which  testify  of  Me :"  we  should  now  say,  without 
any  impropriety,  "  IT  is  they"  fyc. 

§  12.  With  respect  to  Periods,  it  would 
be  neither  practically  useful,  nor  even  suita-     Penods- 
b\e  to  the  present  object,  to  enter  into  an  examination 
*Acts  v.  6.  f  R  jv.  xviii.  2. 


232  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III. 

of  the  different  senses  in  which  various  authors  have 
employed  the  word.  A  technical  term  may  allowably 
be  employed,  in  a  scientific  work,  in  any  sense  not  very 
remote  from  common  usage,  (especially  when  common 
usage  is  not  uniform  and  invariable  in  the  meaning  affix 
ed  to  it,)  provided  it  be  clearly  defined,  and  the  defini- 
tion strictly  adhered  to. 

"By  a  Period,  then,  is  to  be  understood  in  this  place, 
any  sentence,  whether  simple  or  complex,  which  is  so 
framed  that  the  Grammatical  construction  will  not  admit 
of  a  close,  before  the  end  of  it ;  in  which,  in  short,  the 
meaning  remains  suspended,  as  it  were,  till  the  whole 

is  finished.     A  loose  sentence,  on  the  con- 
tences.  en"    trary,  is,  any  that  is  not  a  Period ; — any, 

whose  construction  will  allow  of  a  stop,  so 
as  to  form  a  perfect  sentence,  at  one  or  more  places  be- 
fore we  arrive  at  the  end.  E.  G.  "  We  came  to  our 
journey's  end — at  last — with  no  small  difficulty — after 
much  fatigue — through  deep  roads — and  bad  weather." 
This  is  an  instance  of  a  very  loose  sentence ;  (for  it  is 
evident  that  this  kind  of  structure  admits  of  degrees,) 
there  being  no  less  than  five  places,  marked  by  dashes, 
at  any  one  of  which  the  sentence  might  have  terminat- 
ed, so  as  to  be  grammatically  perfect.  The  same  words 
may  be  formed  into  a  Period,  thus :  "  At  last,  after  much 
fatigue,  through  deep  roads,  and  bad  weather,  we  came, 
with  no  small  difficulty,  to  our  journey's  end."  Here, 
no  stop  can  be  made  at  any  part,  so  that  the  preceding 
words  shall  form  a  sentence  before  the  final  close. 
These  are  both  of  them  mnple  sentences ;  i.  e.  not  con- 
eisting  of  several  clauses,  but  having  only  a  single  verb ; 
so  that  it  is  plain  we  ought  not,  according  to  this  view, 
to  confine  the  name  of  Period  to  complex  sentences ;  as 
Dr.  Campbell  has  done,  notwithstanding  his  having 
adopted  the  same  definition  as  has  been  here  laid  down 
Periods  con-  Periods,  or  sentences  nearly  approaching 
duce  to  En-  to  Periods,  have  certainly,  when  other  things 
KS7-  are  equal,  the  advantage  in  point  of  Energy. 


Chap.  II   §  12.]  OF  ENERGY.  233 

An  unexpected  continuation  of  a  sentence  which  the 
reader  had  supposed  to  be  concluded,  especially  if  in 
reading  aloud,  he  had,  under  that  supposition,  dropped 
his  voice,  is  apt  to  produce  a  sensation  in  the  mind  of 
being  disagreeably  balked  ;  analogous  to  the  unpleasant 
jar  which  is  felt,  when  in  ascending  or  descending  stairs, 
we  meet  with  a  step  more  than  we  expected :  and  if 
this  be  often  repeated,  as  in  a  very  loose  sentence,  a 
kind  of  weary  impatience  results  from  the  uncertainty 
when  the  sentence  is  to  close.  The  objection,  however, 
to  loose  sentences  and  consequent  tendency  towards  the 
periodic  structure,  must  have  been  greater  among  the 
Ancients  than  the  Moderns ;  because  the  variety  of  ar- 
rangement which  the  ancient  languages  permitted,  and, 
in  particular,  the  liberty  of  reserving  the  verb,  on  which 
the  whole  sense  depends,  to  the  end,  made  that  struc- 
ture natural  and  easy,  in  many  instances  in  which,  in 
our  language,  it  would  appear  forced,  unnatural,  and 
affected. 

But  the  agreeableness  of  a  certain  degree,  Tendency 
at  least,  of  periodic  structure,  in  all   Ian-  towards  the 
guag-es,  is  apparent  from  this  ;  that  they  all  Pfriodic 

?  •  j         i  •  i  i_         •  .  *    t,  structure. 

contain  words  which  may  be  said  to  have  no 
other  use  or  signification  but  to  suspend  the  sense,  and 
lead  the  hearer  of  the  first  part  of  the  sentence  to  ex- 
pect the  remainder.  He  who  says,  "  The  world  is  not 
eternal,  nor  the  work  of  chance ;"  expresses  the  same 
sense  as  if  he  said,  "  The  world  is  neither  eternal,  nor 
the  work  of  chance ;"  yet  the  latter  would  be  generally 
preferred.  So  also,  "  The  vines  afforded  both  a  refresh- 
ing shade  and  a  delicious  fruit ;"  the  word  ~"  both  " 
would  be  missed,  though  it  adds  nothing  to  the  sense. 
Again,  "  While  all  the  Pagan  nations  consider  Religion 
as  one  part  of  Virtue,  the  Jews,  on  the  contrary,  regard 
Virtue  as  a  "part  of  Religion  ;"*  the  omission  of  the  first 
word  would  not  alter  the  sense,  bnt  wrould  destroy  the 
Period  ;  to  produce  which  is  its  only  use.  The  MEN, 
•  Josephus. 


234  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IIL 

AE,*  and  TE  of  the  Greek  are,  in  many  places,  subser- 
vient to  this  use  alone. 

The  modern  languages  do  not  indeed  admit,  as  was 
observed  above,  of  so  Periodica  style  as  the  ancient  do: 
but  an  author,  who  does  but  clearly  understand  what  a 
Period  is,  and  who  applies  the  test  I  have  laid  down, 
will  find  it  very  easy,  after  a  little  practice,  to  compose 
in  Periods,  even  to  a  greater  degree  than,  in  an  English 
writer,  good  taste  will  warrant.  His  skill  and  care  will 
be  chiefly  called  for  in  avoiding  all  appearance  of  stiff- 
ness and  affectation  in  the  construction  of  them — in  not 
departing,  for  the  sake  of  a  Period,  too  far  from  collo- 
quial usage — and  in  observing  such  moderation  in  the 
employment  of  this  style,  as  shall  prevent  any  betrayal 
of  artifice,  any  thing  savouring  of  elaborate  stateliness  ; 
which  is  always  to  be  regarded  as  a  worse  fault  than 
the  slovenliness  and  languor  which  accompany  a  very 
loose  style. 

Loose  and  §  13.  It  should  be  observed,  however, 
periodic  that,  as  a  sentence  which  is  not  strictly  a 
clauses.  Period,  according  to  the  foregoing  definition ., 
may  yet  approach  indefinitely  near  to  it,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce nearly  the  same  effect,  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
Periods  may  be  so  constructed  as  to  produce  much  of 
the  same  feeling  of  weariness  and  impatience  which 
results  from  an  excess  of  loose  sentences.  If  the  clauses 
be  very  long,  and  contain  an  enumeration  of  many 
circumstances,  though  the  sentence  be  so  framed,  that 
vve  are  still  kept  in  expectation  of  the  conclusion,  yet 
it  will  be  an  impatient  expectation ;  and  the  reader  will 
feel  the  same  kind  of  uneasy  uncertainty  when  the 
clause  is  to  be  finished,  as  would  be  felt  respecting  the 
sentence,  if  it  were  loose.  And  this  will  especially  be 
the  case,  if  the  rule  formerly  given  with  a  view  to 
Perspicuity,  be  not  observed,!  cf  taking  care  that  each 

*  These  two  particles  seem  to  be  formed  from  nivtiv,  to  u  stop- 
wait,"  and  6eav,  to  "  bind— add  on  " 
f  Part  iii.  chap.  i.  §  3. 


Chap.  II.  §  13.]  OF  LxVERGY..  23d 

pari  of  the  sentence  be  understood,  as  it  proceeds. 
Each  clause,  if  it  consist  of  several  parts,  should  be 
continued  with  the  same  attention  to  their  mutual  con- 
nexion, so  as  to  suspend  the  sense,  as  is  employed  in 
the  whole  sentence ;  that  it  may  be,  as  it  were,  a  Perio- 
dic clause.  And  if  one  clause  be  long  and  another 
short,  the  shorter  should,  if  possible,  be  put  last. 

Universally,  indeed,  a  sentence  will  often 
be,  practically,  too  long,  i.  e.  will  have  a  0f  ethe  enCe 
tedious  dragging  effect,  merely  from  its  con  longer  or 
eluding  with  a  much  longer  clause  than  it  sllorter 
began  with ;  so  that  a  composition  which 
most  would  censure  as  abounding  too  much  in  long 
sentences,  may  often  have  its  defects,  in  great  measure, 
remedied,  without  shortening  any  of  them  ;  merely  by 
reversing  the  order  of  each.  This  of  course  holds  good 
with  respect  to  all  complex  sentences  of  any  consider 
able  length,  whether  periods,  or  not.  An  instance  of 
the  difference  or  effect  produced  by  this  means,  may  be 
seen  in  such  a  sentence  as  the  following  :  "  The  State 
was  made,  under  the  pretence  of  serving  it,  in  reality, 
the  prize  of  their  contention,  to  each  of  those  opposite 
parties,  who  professed,  in  specious  terms,  the  one,  a 
preference  for  moderate  Aristocracy,  the  other,  a  desire 
of  admitting  the  people  at  large  to  an  equality  of  civil 
privileges."  This  may  be  regarded  as  a  complete 
period;  aud  yet,  for  the  reason  just  mentioned,  has  a 
tedious  and  cumbrous  effect.  Many  critics  might  recom- 
mend, and  perhaps  with  reason,  to  break  it  into  two  or 
three ;  but  it  is  to  our  present  purpose  to  remark,  that  it 
might  be,  in  some  degree  at  least,  decidedly  improved, 
by  merely  reversing  the  clauses;  as  thus  :  "The  two 
opposite  parties,  who  professed  in  specious  terms,  the 
one  a  preference  for  moderate  Aristocracy,  the  other  a 
desire  of  admitting  the  people  at  large  to  an  equality  of 
civil  privileges,  made  the  State,  which  they  pretended 
to  serve,  in  reality  the  prize  of  their  contention  "* 
*  Thucydides,  on  the  Corcyrean  sedition. 


236  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [PaktIXV 

Another  instance  may  be  cited  from  a  work,  in  which 
any  occasional  awkwardness  of  expression  is  the  more 
conspicuous,  on  account  of  its  general  excellence,  the 
Church  Liturgy ;  the  style  of  which  is  so  justly  admired 
for  its  remarkable  union  of  energy  with  simplicity, 
smoothness,  and  elegance :  the  following  passage  from 
the  Exhortation  is  one  of  the  very  few,  which,  from 
the  fault  just  noticed,  it  is  difficult  for  a  good  reader  to 
deliver  with  spirit;  "And  although  we  ought  at  all 
times  humbly  to  acknowledge  our  sins  before  God,|] 
yet  ought  we  most  chiefly  so  to  do,||  when  we  assemble 
— and  meet  together — to  render  thanks  for  the  great 
benefits  that  we  have  received  at  his  hands — to  set  forth 
his  most  worthy  praise,  to  hear  his  most  holy  word,  and 
to  ask  those  things  which  are  requisite  and  necessary — 
as  well  for  the  body  as  the  soul."  This  is  evidently  a 
very  loose  sentence,  as  it  might  be  supposed  to  conclude 
at  any  one  of  the  three  places  which  are  marked  by 
dashes  ( — ) ;  this  disadvantage,  however,  may  easily  be 
obviated  by  the  suspension  of  voice,  by  which  a  good 
reader,  acquainted  with  the  passage,  would  indicate  that 
the  sentence  was  not  concluded  ;  but  the  great  fault  is 
the  length  of  the  last  of  the  three  principal  clauses,  in 
comparison  of  the  former  two— (the  conclusions  of 
which  are  marked||  ;)  by  which  a  dragging  and  heavy 
effect  is  produced,  and  the  sentence  is  made  to  appear 
longer  than  it  really  is.  This  would  be  more  manifest 
to  any  one  not  familiar,  as  most  are,  with  the  passage  ; 
but  a  good  reader  of  the  Liturgy  will  find  hardly  any 
sentence  in  it  so  difficult  to  deliver  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion. It  is  perhaps  the  more  profitable  to  notice  a 
blemish  occurring  in  a  composition  so  well  known 
and  so  deservedly  valued  for  the  excellence,  not  only  o\ 
its  sentiments,  but  of  its  language 

It  is  a  useful  admonition  to  young  writers 

wmtenceF.       with  a  view>   t0  wnat   has  latel3r  been   Sai(J 

that  they  should  always  attempt  to  recast  I 

sentence  which  does  not  please  ;  altering  the  arrange- 


Chap.  II.  §  14.]  OF  ENERGY.  237 

merit  and  entire  construction  of  it,  instead  of  merely 
seeking  to  change  one  word  for  another.  This  will 
give  a  "great  advantage  in  point  of  Copiousness  also; 
or  there  may  be,  suppose,  a  substantive,  which,  either 
jecause  it  does  not  fully  express  our  meaning,  or  for 
some  other  reason,  we  wish  to  remove,  but  can  find  no 
other  to  supply  its  place  ;  but  the  object  may  perhaps  be 
easily  accomplished  by  means  of  a  verb,  adverb,  or  some 
other  part  of  speech,  the  substitution  of  which  implies 
an  alteration  of  the  construction.  It  is  an  exercise, 
accordingly,  which  may  be  recommended  as  highly  con- 
ducive to  the  improvement  of  Style,  to  practise  casting 
a  sentence  into  a  variety  of  different  forms. 

It  is  evident,  from  what  has  been  said,  that 
in  compositions  intended  to  be  delivered,  the  JfffJucture 
periodic  style  is  much  less  necessary,  and  for  the  wri- 
therefore  much  less  suitable,  than  in  those  ter  ?.nd  the 
designed  for  the  closet.  The  speaker  may,  spe 
in  most  instances,  by  the  skilful  suspension  of  his  voice, 
give  to  a  loose  sentence  the  effect  of  a  Period  :  and 
though,  in  both  species  of  composition  the  display  of 
art  is  to  be  guarded  against,  a  more  unstudied  air  is 
looked  for  in  such  as  are  spoken. 

The  study  of  the  best  Greek  and  Latin  writers  may 
be  of  groat  advantage  towards  the  improvement  of  the 
Style  in  the  point  concerning  which  [  have  now  been 
treating,  (for  the  reason  lately  mentioned,)  as  well  as  in 
most  others:  and  there  is  this  additional  advantage, 
(which,  at  first  sight,  might  appear  a  disadvantage,)  that 
the  style  of  a  foreign  writer  cannot  be  so  closely  imitated 
as  that  of  one  in  our  own  language :  for  this  reason 
there  will  be  the  less  danger  of  falling  into  an  obvious 
and  servile  imitation.* 

§  14.  Antithesis  has  been  sometimes  reck- 
oned as  one  form  of  the  Period ;  but  it  is 

♦  Bolingbroke  may  be  noted  as  one  of  the  most  Periodic  of  Eng- 
lish writers  ;  Swift  and  Addison  (though  in  other  respects  verj 
duRrent  from  each  other)  are  among  the  most  loose. 


238  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  HI 

evident  that,  according  to  the  view  here  taken,  it  has  no 
necessary  connexion  with  it.  One  clause  may  be  op- 
posed to  another,  by  means  of  some  contrast  between 
corresponding  words  in  each,  whether  or  not  the  clauses 
be  so  connected  that  the  former  could  not,  by  itself,  be 
a  complete  sentence.  Tacitus,  who  is  one  of  the  most 
Antithetical,  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  least  Perio- 
dic, of  all  the  Latin  writers. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  figure  is  calculated 
to  add  greatly  to  Energy.  Every  thing  is  rendered 
more  striking  by  contrast ;  and  almost  every  kind  of 
subject-matter  affords  materials  for  contrasted  expres- 
sions. Truth  is  opposed  to  error;  wise  conduct  to 
foolish ;  different  causes  often  produce  opposite  effects ; 
different  circumstances  dictate  to  prudence  opposite  con- 
duct ;  opposite  impressions  may  be  made  by  the  same 
object,  on  different  minds ;  and  every  extreme  is  op- 
posed both  to  the  Mean,  and  to  the  other  extreme.  If, 
therefore,  the  language  be  so  constructed  as  to  contrast 
together  these  opposites,  they  throw  light  on  each  other 
by  a  kind  of  mutual  reflection,  and  the  view  thus  pre- 
sented will  be  the  more  striking. 
Antithesis  %  tn^s  means  also  we  may  obtain,  con 
conducive  sistently  with  Perspicuity,  a  much  greater 
to  concise-  degree  of  Conciseness ;  which  in  itself  is  so 
conducive  to  Energy  ;  e.  g.  "  When  Reason 
is  against  a  man,  he  will  be  against  Reason  ;"*  it  would 
be  hardly  possible  to  express  this  sentiment  not  An- 
tithetically, so  as  to  be  clearly  intelligible,  except  in  a 
much  longer  sentence.  Again,  "  Words  are  the  Coun- 
ters of  wise  men,  and  the  Money  of  fools  ;"*  here  we 
have  an  instance  of  the  combined  effect  of  Antithesis 
and  Metaphor  in  producing  increased  Energy,  both  di- 
rectly,  and  at  the  same  time,  (by  the  Conciseness  result- 
ing from  them,)  indirectly ;  and  accordingly  in  such 
pointed  and  pithy  expressions,  we  obtain  the  gratifica- 
tion which,  as  Aristotle  remarks,  results  from  "  the  act 

*  Hobbes 


Chap.  II.  §  14.]         OF  ENERGY  23ft 

of  learning  quickly  and  easily."  The  Antithetical  ex- 
pression, "Party  is  the  madness  of  many,  for  the  gain 
of  a  few,"  affords  an  instance  of  this  construction  in  a 
sentence  which  does  not  contain  two  distinct  clauses. 
So  also  "  A  Proverb  is  the  wisdom  of  many,  and  the 
wit  of  one." 

Frequently  the  same  words,  placed  in  different  rela- 
tions with  each  other,  will  stand  in  contrast  to  them- 
selves;  as  in  the  expression,  "A  fool  with  judges; 
among  fools,  a  judge  ;"*  and  in  that  given  by  Quinc- 
tilian,  "  -non  ut  edam  vivo,  sed  ut  vivam  edo  ;"  "  I  do 
not  live  to  eat,  but  eat  to  live ;"  again,  *.«  Persecution  is 
not  wrong  because  it  is  cruel ;  but  it  is  cruel  because 
it  is  wrong  :"f  and  again,  in  the  beautiful  lines,  from 
the  Arabic,  by  Sir  W.  Jones: 

"  On  Parent  knees,  a  naked  new-born  child 
Weeping  thou  sat'st  while  all  around  thee  smil'd  ; 
So  live,  that  sinking  on  thy  last  long  sleep, 
Thou  then  may'st  smile,  while  all  around  thee  weep." 

All  of  these  are  instances  also  of  perfect  Antithesis, 
without  Period ;  for  each  of  these  sentences  might, 
grammatically,  be  concluded  in  the  middle.  So  also, 
"It  is  [indeed]  a  just  maxim,  that  honesty  is  the  best 
policy ;  but  he  who  is  governed  by  that  maxim  is  not 
an  honest  man."  This  Antithetical  sentence  is  or  is  not 
a  Period,  according  as  the  word  "indeed"  is  inserted 
or  omitted.  Of  the  same  kind  is  an  expression  n\  a 
Speech  of  Mr.  Wyndham's,  "  Some  contend  that  I  dig- 
approve  of  this  plan,  because  it  is  not  my  own  ;  it  would 
be  more  correct  to  say,  that  it  is  not  my  own,  because  I 
disapprove  it."$ 

The  use  of  Antithesis  has  been  censured  by  some,  as 
Hi  it  were  a  paltry  and  affected  decoration,  unsuitable  to 
a  chaste,  natural  and  masculine  style.     Pope,  accord- 

*  Cowper.  f  Romish  Errors,  chap.  v.  §  3. 

\  Great  pointedness  and  force  is  added  to  the  argument  from  con 
».-ort'e«  (part  i.  chap.  ii.  §  6.)  by  the  antithetical  form  of  expression 
Bee  note  to  part  iv.  chap.  iv.  ^  1. 


240  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

ingly,  himself  one  of  the  most  antithetical  of  our  wn 
Cers,  speaks  of  it,  in  the  Duneiad,  with  contempt : 

"  I  see  a  Chief,  who  leads  my  chosen  sons, 
All  arm'd  with  Points,  Antitheses,  and  Puns." 

Caution  The  excess>  indeed,  of  this  style,  by  be- 

against  ex-  traying  artifice,  effectually  destroys  Energy ; 
Ant'th  '  an(^  draws  °ff  ^ie  attention,  even  of  those 
who  are  pleased  with  effeminate  glitter,  from 
the  matter,  to  the  style.  But,  as  Dr.  Campbell  observes, 
"  the  excess  itself  into  which  some  writers  have  fallen 
is  an  evidence  of  its  value — of  the  lustre  and  emphasis 
which  Antithesis  is  calculated  to  give  to  the  expression. 
There  is  no  risk  ot  intemperance  in  us;ng  a  liquor  which 
has  neither  spirit  nor  flavour." 

It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  lay  down  precise  rules 
for  determining,  what  will  amount  to  excess,  in  the  use 
of  this,  or  of  any  other  figure :  the  great  safeguard  will 
be  the  formation  of  a  pure  taste,  by  the  study  of  the 
most  chaste  writers,  and  unsparing  self-correction.  ■  But 
one  rule  always  to  be  observed  in  respect  to  the  antithe- 
tical construction,  is  to  remember  that  in  a  true  Antithe- 
sis the  opposition  is  always  in  the  ideas  expressed. 
Some  writers  abound  with  a  kind  of  mock-antithesis,  in 
which  the  same,  or  nearly  the  same  sentiment  which  is 
expressed  by  the  first  clause,  is  repeated  in  a  second ;  or 
at  least,  in  which  there  is  but  little  of  real  contrast  be- 
tween the  clauses  which  are  expressed  in  a  contrasted 
form.  This  kind  of  style  not  only  produces  disgust  in- 
stead of  pleasure,  when  once  the  artifice  is  detected, 
which  it  soon  must  be,  bi  t  also,  instead  of  the  brevity 
and  vigour  resulting  from  true  Antithesis,  labours  under 
the  fault  of  prolixity  and  heaviness.  Sentences  which 
might  have  been  expressed  as  simple  ones,  are  expand- 
ed into  complex,  by  the  addition  of  clauses,  which  ado 
little  or  nothing  to  the  sense ;  and  which  have  been  com- 
pared to  the  false  handles  and  keyholes  with  which  fur- 
niture is  decorated,  that  serve  no  other  purpose  than  to 


Chap.  II.  §  14.]         OF  ENERGY  24, 

correspond  to  the  real  ones.     Much  of  Dr.  Johnson's 
writing  is  chargeable  with  this  fault. 

Bacon,  in  his  Rhetoric,  furnishes,  in  his  common- 
places, (t.  e.  heads  of  Arguments,  pro  and  contra,  on  a 
variety  of  subjects,)  some  admirable  specimens  of  com- 
pressed and  striking  Antitheses ;  many  of  which  are 
worthy  of  being  enrolled  among  the  most  approved  pro- 
verbs ;  e.  g.  "  He  who  dreads  new  remedies,  must  abide 
old  evils."  "  Since  thing?  alter  for  the  worse  sponta- 
neously, if  they  be  not  altered  for  the  better  designedly, 
what  end  will  there  be  of  the  evil  ?"  "  The  humblest 
of  the  virtues  the  vulgar  praise,  the  middle  ones  they 
admire,  of  the  highest  they  have  no  perception:"  &c* 

It  will  not  unfrequently  happen  that  an  Antithesis 
Antithesis  may  be  even  more  happily  ex-  without 
pressed  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  Period,  if  the  Penod- 
clauses  are  by  this  means  made  of  a  more  convenient 
length,  and  a  resting-place  provided  at  the  most  suita- 
ble point :  e.  g.  "  The  persecutions  undergone  by  the 
Apostles,  furnished  both  a  trial  to  their  faith,  and  a  con- 
firmation to  ours: — a  trial  to  them,  because  if  human 
honours  and  rewards  had  attended  them,  they  could  not, 
even  themselves,  have  been  certain  that  these  were  not 
their  object ;  and  a  confirmation  to  us,  because  they 
would  not  have  encountered  such  sufferings  in  the  cause 
of  imposture."  If  this  sentence  were  not  broken  as  it 
is,  but  compacted  into  a  Period,  it  would  have  more 
heaviness  of  effect,  though  it  would  be  rather  shorter . 
e.  g.  "  The  persecutions  undergone  hy  the  Apostles, 
furnished  both  a  trial  of  their  faith,  since  if  human  hon- 
ours, &c.  &c.,  and  also  a  confirmation  of  ours,  because," 
&c.  Universally,  indeed,  a  complex  sentence,  whether 
antithetical  or  not,  will  often  have  a  degree  of  spirit  and 
liveliness  from  the  latter  clause  being  made  to  turn  back, 
as  it  were,  upon  the  former,  by  containing  or  referring 
to,  some  word  that  had  there  been  mentioned :  e.  g. 
*  The  introducers  of  the  now-established  principles  of 

Sec  Appendix,  [A]  for  some  additional  specimens 
19 


24S  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  HI. 

Political-economy  may  fairly  be  considered  to  have  made 
a  great  discovery  ;  a  discovery  the  more  creditable,  from 
the  circumstance  that  the  facts  on  which  it  was  founded 
had  long  been  well-known  to  all."  This  kind  of  style 
also  may,  as  well  as  the  Antithetical,  prove  offensive  if 
carried  to  such  an  excess  as  to  produce  an  appearance 
of  affectation  or  mannerism. 

§  15.  Lastly,  to  the  Speaker  especially, 
gation°'  ^e  occasional  employment  of  the  interroga- 
tive form,  will  often  prove  serviceable  with  a 
view  to  Energy.  It  calls  the  hearer's  attention  more 
forcibly  to  some  important  point,  by  a  personal  appeal 
to  each  individual,  either  to  assent  to  what  is  urged,  or 
to  frame  a  reasonable  objection  ;  and  it  often  carries 
with  it  an  air  of  triumphant  defiance  of  an  opponent  to 
refute  the  argument  if  he  can.  Either  the  Premiss*  or 
the  Conclusion,  or  both,  of  any  argument,  may  be  sta- 
ted in  this  form  ;  but  it  is  evident,  that  if  it  be  introduced 
too  frequently,  it  will  necessarily  fail  of  the  object  of 
directing  a  particular  attention  to  the  most  important 
points.  To  attempt  to  make  every  thing  emphatic,  is 
to  make  nothing  emphatic.  The  utility,  however,  of 
this  figure,  to  the  Orator  at  least,  is  sufficiently  estab- 
lished by  the  single  consideration,  that  it  abounds  in  the 
Speeches  of  Demosthenes. 


Chap.  III.— Of  Elegance. 

§  1.  On  the  last  quality  of  Style  to  be  noticed — Ele- 
gance or  Beauty — it  is  the  less  necessary  to  enlarge, 
both  because  the  most  appropriate  and  characteristic 
excellence  of  the  class  of  compositions  here  treated  of, 
is,  that  Energy  of  which  [  have  been  speaking ;  and 

*  The  interrogative  form  Is  particularly  suitable  to  the  minor 

E  remiss  of  a  Dilemma,  because  that  does  not  categorically  assert, 
ut  leaves  an  opponent  his  choice  of  several  alternatives      See  Lo 
glc,  Supp.  to  part  iii.  ^  5. 


G.4P.  IIT.  §  2.]       OF  ELEGANCE.  243 

also,  because  many  of  the  rules  lair,  down  under  that 
head,  are  equally  applicable  with  a  view  to  Elegance. 
The  same  Choice,  Number,  and  Arrangement  of  words, 
will,  foi  the  most  par.,  conduce  both  to  Ener-  Eiegance 
gy,  and  to  Beauty.  The  two  qualities,  how-  and  Energy 
ever,  are  by  no  means  undistinguishable  :  a  not  the 
Metaphor,   for  instance,  may  be  apt,  and 
striking,  and  consequently  conducive  to  Energy  of  ex 
pression,  even  though  the  new  image,  introduced  by  it, 
have  no  intrinsic  beauty,  or  be  even  unpleasant ;  in 
which  case  it  would  be  at  variance  with  Elegance,  or 
at  least  would  not  conduce  to  it.  Elegance  requires  that 
all  homely  and  coarse  words  and  phrases  should  be 
avoided,  even  at  the  expense  of  circumlocution  ;  though 
they  may  be  the  most  apt  and  forcible  that  language 
can  supply.     And  Elegance  implies  a  smooth  and  e^sy 
flow  of  words  in  respect  of  the  sound  of  the  sentences  ; 
though  a  more  harsh  and  abrupt  mode  of  expression 
may  often  be,  at  least,  equally  energetic. 

Accordingly,  many  are  generally  acknowledged  to  be 
forcible  writers,  to  whom  no  one  would  give  the  credit 
of  Elegance  ;  and  many  others,  who  are  allowed  to  be 
elegant,  are  yet  by  no  means  reckoned  among  the  vig- 
orous and  energetic. 

§  2.  When  the  two  excellencies  of  Style 
are  at  variance,  the  general  rule  to  be  ob-  on^ne^. 
served.by  the  orator  is  to  prefer  the  energetic 
to  the  elegant.  Sometimes,  indeed,  a  uJain  or  even  a 
somewhat  homely  expression,  may  have  even  a  more 
energetic  effect,  from  that  very  circumstance,  than  one 
of  more  studied  refinement ;  since  it  may  convey  the 
idea  of  the  speaker's  being  thoroughly  in  earnest,  and 
anxious  to  convey  his  sentiments,  where  he  uses  an 
expression  that  can  have  no  other  recommendation; 
whereas  a  strikingly  elegant  expression  may  sometimes 
convey  a  suspicion  that  it  was  introduced  for  the  sake 
of  its  Elegance ;  which  will  greatly  diminish  the  force 
wf  what  is  said      Th«  appearance  of  a  too  uniform 


244  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

elegance  or  stateliness  of  style,  is  apt  to  cloy ;  like  a 
piece  of  music  without  any  discords. 

Universally,  a  writer  or  speaker  should 
afif  oneS  endeavour  to  maintain  the  appearance  of  ex* 
had  some-  pressing  himself,  not,  as  if  he  wanted  to  say 
thing  to  something,  but  as  if  he  had  something  to  say : 
i  e.  not  as  if  he  had  a  subject  set  him,  and 
was  anxious  to  compose  the  best  essay  or  declamation 
on  it  that  he  could ;  but  as  if  he  had  some  ideas  to 
which  he  was  anxious  to  give  utterance ; — not  as  if  he 
wanted  to  compose  (for  instance)  a  sermon,  and  was 
desirous  of  performing  that  task  satisfactorily ;  but  as 
if  there  was  something  in  his  mind  which  he  was  de- 
sirous of  communicating  to  his  hearers. 

It  is  an  admonition  which  probably  will  give  offence 
to  some,  and  excite  the  scorn  of  others,  but  which  I  can- 
not but  think  may  sometimes  prove  useful  to  a  young 
preacher,  that  he  should  ask  himself,  at  the  beginning, 
and  in  the  course  of  his  composition,  "for  what  pur- 
pose am  I  going  to  preach  ?  Wherein  would  any  one 
be  a  loser  if  I  were  to  keep  silence  ?  Is  it  likely  that 
any  one  will  learn  something  he  was  ignorant  of,  or  be 
reminded  forcibly  of  something  he  had  forgotten,  or  that 
something  he  was  familiar  with  shall  be  set  before  him 
in  a  new  and  striking  point  of  view,  or  that  some  diffi- 
culty will  have  been  explained,  or  some  confused  ideas 
rendered  clear ;  or,  in  short,  that  I  shall  at  all  have  ed- 
ified any  one  ?  Let  it  not  be  said,  that  [  preached  be- 
cause there  was  to  be  a  Sermon,  and  concluded  when  1 
had  said  enough  to — occupy  the  requisite  time  ;*  careful 
only  to  avoid  any  thing  thing  that  could  excite  censure, 
and  content  to  leave  the  hearers  just  as  I  found  them. 
Let  me  not  be  satisfied  with  the  thousandth  iteration  of 
common-places,  on  the  ground  that  it  is  all  very  true, 
and  that  it  is  the  fault  of  the  congregation  if  they  do  not 
believe  and  practise  it;  for  all  this  is  eqvally  the  cas8 
whether  I  preach  or  not ;  and  if  all  I  say  is  what  they 
*  See  aboye,  Part  iii.  chap  1.  §  o. 


Chap.  Ill  §  2.]       OF  ELEGANCE.  245 

not  only  knew  before,  but  had  heard  in  the  same  trite 
and  general  statements  an  hundred  times  before,  I  might 
as  well  hold  my  peace.  1  ought  not  to  be  considering 
merely  whether  these  arguments — motives  doctrines, 
&c,  are  themselves  likely  to  produce  an  effect;  but 
whether  my  urging  them  will  be  likely  to  make  any 
difference  as  to  the  effect.  Am  I  then  about  to  preach 
merely  because  I  want  to  say  something,  or  because  1 
have  something  to  say  ?" 

It  is  true,  a  man  cannot  expect  constant  success  in  his 
endeavours  ;  but  he  is  not  very  likely  to  succeed  in  any 
thing  that  is  not  even  the  object  of  his  endeavours. 

This  speaking  as  if  one  had  something  to  say,  is 
probably  what  Bp.  Butler  means  by  the  expression  of 
a  man's  writing  "  with  simplicity  and  in  earnest."  His 
manner  has  this  advantage,  though  it  is  not  only  inele- 
gant, but  often  obscure  :  Dr.  Paley's  is  equally  earnest, 
and  very  perspicuous :  and  though  often  homely,  is 
more  impressive  than  that  of  many  of  our  most  polished 
writers.  It  is  easy  to  discern  the  prevalence  of  these 
two  different  manners  in  different  authors,  respectively, 
and  to  perceive  the  very  different  effects  produced  by 
them  ;  it  is  not  so  easy  for  one  who  is  not  really  wri- 
ting "■  with  simplicity  and  in  earnest,"  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  it.*  But  certainly  nothing  is  more  ad- 
verse to  this  appearance  than  over  refinement.  Any 
expression  indeed  that  is  vulgar,  in  bad  taste,  and  un- 
suitable to  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  or  of  the  occasion, 
is  to  be  avoided  ;  since,  though  it  might  have,  with 
some  hearers,  an  energetic  effect,  this  would  be  more 
than  counter-balanced  by  the  disgust  produced  in 
others ;  and  where  a  small  accession  of  Energy  is  to  be 
gained  at  the  expense  of  a  great  sacrifice  of  Elegance, 
the  latter  will  demand  a  preference.  But  still,  the  gen- 
eral rule  is  not  to  be  lost  sight  of  by  him  who  is  in  ear- 
nest aiming  at  the  true  ultimate  end  of  the  Orator,  to 

*  This  may  be  one  reason  why  wx*  Author's  notes  are  oftea  more 
iFpirited  and  more  interesting  than  the  rest  of  his  work. 


246  ELEMENTS  OF  KIIErOiCC.      [Part  III 

which  all  others  are  to  he  made  subservient;  viz.  not 
the  arim  semenl  oi  In-  hearers,  nor  their  admiration  of 
himself,  but  their  Conviction  or  Persuasion 

1 1  is  from  this  view  of  the  subject  that  I  have  dwei: 
most  mi  that  quality  of  style  which  seems  most  espe- 
cially adapted  to  that  object!  Perspicuity  is  required  in 
all  compositions;  ami  rnaj  even  be  considered  as  the 
ultimate  end  of  a  Scientific  writer,  considered  as  such. 
1  [e  may  indeed  practically  increase  his  utility  by  writing 
o  a  to  excite  curiosity,  and  recommend  his  subject  to 
general  attention  ;  but  id  doing  so,  he  is,  in  Borne  degree, 
superadding  the  office  of  the  Orator  to  his  own ;  as  a 
Philosopher,  he  may  assume'  the  existence  in  bis  reader 
of  a  desire  for  knowledge,  and  has  only  to  convey  that 
knowledge  in  language  that  may  be  clearly  understood 
of  the  style  of  the  Orator,  (in  the  wide  sense  in  which 

I    have   Seen   using   this  appellation,  as  including  all 

who  are  aiming  at  Conviction,)  the  appropriate  object 

ifl  to  impress  the  meaning  strongly  upon  men's  minds. 

Of  the  Poet,  again,  as  such,*  the  ultimate  end  is  to  give 
"pleasure;  and  accordingly  Elegance  or  Beauty  (in  the 

most  extensive  sense  of  those  terms)  will  be  the  appro- 
priate qualities  of  his  language. 

$  :*.  Some  indeed  have  contended,  that  to 

Bte^ut(juf       tflV0    l'l(':islll,!   's  not    the    ultimate   end    of 

appropriate  l'oetry;|-  not  distinguishing  between  the 
onaracter  object  which  the  Poet  may  have  in  new,  as  a 
SicSfon.0      wan> :iml  ,hal  u  llH ■■''  ,s  the  objectof  Poetry, 

BS  Poetry.     Many,  DO  doubt,  may  have  pro- 
posed to  themselves  the  far    more    important  objectof 

producing  moral  improvement  in  their  hearers  through 
the  medium  of  Poetry;  and  so  have  others,  the  incul- 
cation of  their  own  political  or  philosophical  tenets;  01. 

(as  is  supposed  in  the  case  of  the  Georgics,)  the  encou- 
ragement of  Agriculture.     But   if   the   views  of   tha 

»  Sec  Biihop  Copleiton'i  Lecture  on  Poetry. 

\  Supported  la  lome  degree  by  the  authority  of  Horace  . 

J&Utpro&ttt*  rolitut,  ant  dclcclare  I'oclir. 


Chai>.  III.  §  3.]        OF  ELEGANCE.  247 

individual  are  to  be  taken  into  account,  it  should  be 
considered  that  the  personal  fame  or  emolument  of  the 
author  is  very  frequently  his  ultimate  object.  The  true 
test  is  easily  applied  :  that  which  to  competent  judges 
affords  the  appropriate  pleasure  of  Poetry,  is  good 
poetry,  whether  it  answer  any  other  purpose  or  not . 
that  which  does  not  afford  this  pleasure,  however 
instructive  it  may  be,  is  not  good  Poetry,  though  it  may 
be  a  valuable  work. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  how  far  these  _    . 

,   *  1.1  ,'  .•         Poetry  not 

remarks  apply  to  the  question  respecting  constituted 
Beauty  of  style  ;  since  the  chief  gratification  such  by  the 
afforded  by  Poetry  arises,  it  may  be  said,  thoushts- 
from  the  beauty  of  the  thoughts.  And  undoubtedly  if 
these  be  mean  and  common-place,  the  Poetry  will  be 
worth  little ;  but  still,  it  is  not  any  quality  of  the 
thoughts  that  constitutes  Poetry.  Notwithstanding  all 
that  has  been  advanced  by  some  French  critics,*  to 
prove  that  a  work,  not  in  metre,  may  be  a  Poem, 
(which  doctrine  was  partly  derived  from  a  misinterpre- 
tation of  a  passage  in  Aristotle's  Poetics.])  universal 
opinion  has  always  given  a  contrary  decision.  Any 
composition  in  verse,  (and  none  that  is  not,)  is  always 
called,  whether  good  or  bad,  a  Poem,  by  all  who  have 
no  favourite  hypothesis  to  maintain.  It  is  indeed  a 
common  figure  of  speech  to  say,  in  speaking  of  any 
work  that  is  deficient  in  the  qualities  which  Poetry 
ought  to  exhibit,  that  it  is  not  a  Poem  ;  just  as  we  say 
of  one  who  wants  the  characteristic  excellences  of  the 
species,  or  the  sex,  that  he  is  not  a  man :%  and  thus 
some  have  been  led  to  confound  together  the  appro- 
priate  excellence  of  the   thing  in  question,  with   its 

*  Sec  Preface  to  "Telemaque." 

t  ViXoi  \6yoi  has  been  erroneously  interpreted  language  without 
metre,  in  a pasage  where  it  certainly  means  metre  without  music; 
»r,  os  he  calls  it  in  another  passage  of  the  same  work,  \^i\o^tjpia- 

\  "  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 
Who  dares  do  more,  is  ->iona  "—Macbeth. 


248  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  ill 

essence;*  but  the  use  of  such  an  expression  as,  an 
"  indifferent  "  or  a  "  dull  Poem,"  shows  plainly  that 
the  title  of  Poetry  does  not  necessarily  imply  the  re- 
quisite Beauties  of  Poetry. 

.   .  Poetry  is  not  distinguished  from  Prose  by 

?f  roe.?ry0n  superior  Beauty  of  thought  or  of  expression, 
and  Prose,  but  is  a  distinct  kind  of  composition  ;f  and 
they  produce,  when  each  is  excellent  in  its 
kind,  distinct  kinds  of  pleasure.  Try  the  experiment,  of 
merely  breaking  up  the  metrical  structure  of  a  fine  Poem, 
and  you  will  find  it  injlated  and  bombastic  Prose  :$  remove 
this  defect  by  altering  the  words  and  the  arrangement, 
and  it  will  be  better  Prose  than  before ;  then,  arrange 
this  again  into  metre,  without  any  other  change,  and  it 
will  be  tame  and  dull  Poetry ;  but  still  it  will  be  Poetry, 
as  is  indicated  by  the  very  censure  it  will  incur  ;  for  if 
it  were  not,  there  would  be  no  fault  to  be  found  with  it ; 
since  while  it  remained  Prose,  it  was  (as  wTe  have  sup- 
posed) unexceptionable.     The  circumstance   that  the 

*  It  is,  perhaps,  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  I  do  not  mean  to 
employ  the  word  "  essential  "  in  a  sense  which  it  sometimes  bears, 
viz.  important.  The  essential  circumstance  in  "  Fresco-painting," 
is  that  the  colours  are  laid  on  wet  plaister  5  in  an  "  oil  painting," 
that  they  shall  have  been  mixed  in  oils;  in  an  "etching,"  that 
aqua  fortis  shall  have  been  employed  ;  &c.  But  no  one  would  be 
understood  to  mean  by  this,  that  these  circumstances  are  of  more 
consequence  (and  in  that  sense  more  essential)  than  the  display  of  the 
artist's  genius.  So,  in  the  present  case,  the  beauty  of  the  thoughts 
is  a  more  important  and,  in  that  sense,  a  more  essential  circum 
stance,  than  metre. 

f  I  wish  it  to  be  observed,  that  I  am  not  defending  or  seeking 
to  introduce  any  unusual  or  new  sense  of  the  word  Poetry  ;  but,  oiv 
the  contrary,  explaining  and  vindicating  that  which  is  the  most 
customary  among  all  men  who  have  no  particular  theory  to  sup 
port.  The  mass  of  mankind  often  need,  indeed,  to  have  the  mean- 
ing of  a  word  (t.  e  their  own  meaning)  explained  and  developed , 
but  not  to  have  it  determined  what  it  shall  mean,  since  that  is  de- 
termined by  their  use  ;  the  true  sense  of  each  word  being,  thai 
which  is  understood  by  it. 

f  Hence  the  impropriety  of  the  practice,  by  no  means  uncommon, 
of  learning  a  language  from  its  poetry.  It  is  like  learning  Botany 
in  a  flower  garden ;  which  is  filled  with  what  are,  to  the  Botanist's 
eye,  beautiful  monsters ; — every  variety  of  curious  and  ornamental 
deviation  from  the  simple  forms. 


Chap.  Ill   §  4.]         OF  ELEGANCE.  249 

same  style  which  was  even  required  in  one  kind  of  com- 
position, proved  offensive  in  the  other,  shows  that  a 
different  kind  of  language  is  suitable  for  a  composition 
in  metre. 

Another  indication  of  the  essential  differ- 
ence between  the  two  kinds  of  composition,  Poetry  not 
and  of  the  superior  importance  of  the  expres-  ^s  ata* 
sion  in  Poetry,  is,  that  a  good  translation  of 
a  Poem,  (though,  perhaps,  strictly  speaking,  what  is  so 
called  is  rather  an  imitation,*)  is  read  by  one  well-ac- 
quainted with  the  original,  with  equal  or  even  superior 
pleasure  to  that  which  it  affords  to  one  ignorant  of  that 
original ;  whereas  the  best  translation  of  a  Prose-work, 
(at  least  of  one  not   principally  valued  for  beauty  of 
style,)  will  seldom  be  read  by  one v  familiar  with  the 
original.     And  for  the  same  reason,  a  fine  passage  of 
Poetry  will  be  re-perused,  with  unabated  pleasure,  for 
the   twentieth  time,  even   by  one  who  knows  it  by 
heart,  f 

According  to  the  views  here  taken,  good  Poetry 
might  be  defined,  "  Elegant  and  decorated  language, 
in  metre,  expressing  such  and  such  thoughts;"  and 
good  Prose -composition  "  such  and  such  thoughts  ex- 
pressed in  good  language ;"  that  which  is  primary  in 
each,  being  subordinate  in  the  other. 

§  4.  What  has  been  said  may  be  iiiustra-  Analogy 
ted  as  fully,  not  as  it  might  be,  but  as  is  suit-  between 
able  to  the  present  occasion,  by  the  follow-  poetry™* 
tng  passages  from  Dr.  A.  Smith's  admirable  Walking 
fragment  of  an  Essay  on  the  Imitative  arts  ?n£  §&nc'k 
"  Were  I  to  attempt  to  discriminate  between  ^Ug,  and* 
Dancing  and  any  other  kind  of  movement,    singing. 

*  And  accordingly  it  should  be  observed,  that,  as  all  admit,  none 
Cut  a  poet  can  be  qualified  to  translate  a  poem, 
t  Hence  it  is  that  the  want  of  complete  Perspicuity  (such  t.  e.  as 

fiuts  the  reader  instantly  in  possession  of  the  whole  sense)  is  a  faj 
ess  fault  in  poetry  than  in  prose.  For  poetry,  if  it  be  worth  read' 
ing  at  all,  is  worth  reading  over  and  over  ;  which  it  willbe,  if  it  be 
sufficiently  intelligible,  on  a  first  perusal,  to  excite  vivid  and 
pleasing  emotions. 

20 


250  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

1  should  observe,  that  though  in  performing  any  ordi 
nary  action — in  walking,  for  example,  across  the  room, 
a  person  may  manifest  both  grace  and  agility,  yet  if  he 
betrays  the  least  intention  of  showing  either,  he  is  sure 
of  offending  more  or  less,  and  we  never  fail  to  accuse 
him  of  some  degree  of  vanity  and  affectation.  In  the 
performance  of  any  such  ordinary  action,  every  one 
wishes  to  appear  to  be  solely  occupied  about  the  proper 
purpose  of  the  action  ;  if  he  means  to  show  either  grace 
or  agility,  he  is  careful  to  conceal  that  meaning ;  and 
in  proportion  as  he  betrays  it,  which  he  almost  always 
does,  he  offends.  In  Dancing,  on  the  contrary,  every 
one  professes  and  avows,  as  it  were,  the  intention  of 
displaying  some  degree  either  of  grace  or  of  agility,  or 
of  both.  The  display  of  one  or  other,  or  both  of  these 
qualities,  is,  in  reality,  the  proper  purpose  of  the  action ; 
and  there  can  never  be  any  disagreeable  vanity  or  affec- 
tation in  following  out  the  proper  purpose  of  any  action 
When  we  say  of  any  particular  person,  that  he  gives 
himself  many  affected  airs  and  graces  in  Dancing,  we 
mean  either  that  he  exhibits  airs  and  graces  unsuitable 
to  the  nature  of  the  dance,  or  that  he  exaggerates  those 
which  are  suitable.  Every  Dance  is,  in  reality,  a  suc- 
cession of  airs  and  graces  of  some  kind  or  other,  which, 
if  f  may  say  so,  profess  themselves  to  be  such.  The 
steps,  gestures,  and  motions  which,  as  it  were,  avow  the 
intention  of  exhibiting  a  succession  of  such  airs  and 
graces,  are  the  steps,  gestures,  and  motions  which  are 
peculiar  to  Dancing.  *  *  *  The  distinction  between  the 
sounds  or  tones  of  Singing,  and  those  of  Speaking, 
seems  to  be  of  the  same  kind  with  that  between  the 
steps,  &c.  of  Dancing,  and  those  of  any  other  ordinary 
action.  Though  in  Speaking  a  person  may  show  a 
very  agreeable  tone  of  voice,  yet  if  he  seems  to  intend 
to  show  it — if  he  appears  to  listen  to  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  and,  as  it  were,  to  tune  it  into  a  pleasing 
modulation,  he  never  fails  to  offend,  as  guilty  of  a  most 
disagreeable  affectation.     In  Speaking,  as  in  every  othei 


Chap.  III.  §  4.]        OF  ELEGANCE.  251 

ordinary  action,  we  expect  and  require  that  tne  speaker 
should  attend  only  to  the  proper  purpose  of  the  action- 
trie  clear  and  distinct  expression  of  what  he  has  to  say 
In  Singing,  on  the  contrary,  every  one  professes  the 
intention  to  please  by  the  tone  and  cadence  ol  his  voice ; 
and  he  not  only  appears  to  be  guilty  of  no  disagreeable 
affectation  in  doing  so,  but  we  expect  and  require  that 
he  should  do  so.  To  please  b)r  the  Choice  and  Ar- 
rangement of  agreeable  sounds,  is  the  proper  purpose  of 
all  music,  vocal  as  well  as  instrumental ;  and  we  always 
expect  that  every  one  should  attend  to  the  proper  pur- 
pose of  whatever  action  he  is  performing.  A  person 
may  appear  to  sing1,  as  well  as  to  dance,  affectedly ;  he 
may  endeavour  to  please  by  sounds  and  tones  which 
are  unsuitable  to  the  nature  of  the  song,  or  he  may 
dwell  too  much  on  those  which  are  suitable  to  it.  The 
disagreeable  affectation  appears  to  consist  always,  not 
in  attempting  to  please  by  a  proper,  but  by  some  im- 
proper modulation  of  the  voice."  It  is  only  necessary 
to  add,  (what  seems  evidently  to  have  been  in  the  au- 
thor's mind,  though  the  Dissertation  is  left  unfinished,) 
that  Poetry  has  the  same  relation  to  Prose,  as  Dancing 
to  Walking,  and  Singing  to  Speaking ;  and  that  what 
has  been  said  of  them,  will  apply  exactly,  mutatis  mu- 
tandis, to  the  other.  It  is  needless  to  state  this  at  length  ; 
as  any  one,  by  going  over  the  passages  just  cited, 
merely  substituting  for  "  Singing,"  "  Poetry," — for 
•'  Speaking,"  "  Prose,"— for  "  Voice,"  "  Language," 
&c  will  at  once  perceive  the  coincidence.* 

What. has  been  said  will  not  be  thought  an  unneces- 
sary digression,  by  any  one  who  considers  (not  to  men- 
tion the  direct  application  of  Dr.  Smith's  remarks,  to 
Elocution)  the  important  principle  thus  established  in 
respect  of  the  decorations  of  style :  viz.  that  though  it 

*  This  probably  was  in  Aristotle's  mind  when  he  reckoned  Poetry 
among  theimitative  arts  ;  viz.  that  it  is  imitative  of  Prose-composi 
tion,  in  the  same  manner  as  Singing,  of  ordinary  Speaking;  and 
Dancing,  of  ordinary  action. 


252  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  III 

is  possible  for  a  poetical  style  to  be  affectedly  and  offen- 
sively ornamented,  yet  the  same  degree  and  kind  of 
decoration  which  is  not  only  allowed,  but  required,  in 
Verse,  would  in  Prose  be  disgusting  ;  and  that  the  ap~ 
vearance  of  attention  to  the  Beauty  of  the  expression, 
and  to  the  Arrangement  of  the  words,  ^hich  in  Verse 
is  essential,  is  to  be  carefully  avoided  iJBProse. 
Elegance  of  ^n^  s*nce>  as  ^*r  Smith  observes,  "  such 
style  in  a  design,  when  it  exists,  is  almost  always 
prose  not  to  betrayed  ;"  the  safest  rule  is,  never,  during 
of  during^  '  tne  act  °f  composition,  to  study  Elegance, 
the  act  of  or  think  about  it  at  all.  Let  an  author  study 
•writing.  ^e  kest  mocje]s — mark  their  beauties  of  style, 
and  dwell  upon  them,  that  he  may  insensibly  catch  the 
habit  of  expressing  himself  with  Elegance  ;  and  when 
he  has  completed  any  composition,  he  may  revise  it, 
and  cautiously  alter  any  passage  that  is  awkward  and 
harsh,  as  well  as  those  that  are  feeble  and  obscure :  but 
let  him  never,  while  writing,  think  of  any  beauties  of 
style ;  but  content  himself  with  such  as  may  occur 
spontaneously.  He  should  carefully  study  Perspicuity 
as  he  goes  along ;  he  may  also,  though  more  cautiously, 
aim,  in  like  manner,  at  Energy  ;  but  if  he  is  endeavour- 
ing after  Elegance,  he  will  hardly  fail  to  betray  that 
endeavour;  and  in  proportion  as  he  does  this,  he  will 
be  so  far  from  giving  pleasure,  to  good  judges,  that  h« 
will  cfiend  more  than  by  the  rudest  simplicity. 


Part  IV.  1  OF  ELOCUTION  253 

PART  IV. 

0*F    ELOCUTION 


Chap.  I. — General  Considerations  relative  to 
Elocution. 

§  1.  On  the  importance  of  this  branch,  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  offer  any  remark.  Few  need  to  be  told 
that  the  effect  of  the  most  perfect  composition  may  be 
entirely  destroyed,  even  by  a  Delivery  which  does  not 
render  it  unintelligible ;  that  one,  which  is  inferior  both 
in  matter  and  style,  may  produce,  if  better  spoken,  a 
more  powerful  effect  than  another  which  surpasses  it  in 
both  those  points ;  and  that  even  such  an  Elocution  as 
does  not  spoil  the  effect  of  what  is  said,  may  yet  fall  far 
short  of  doing  full  justice  to  it.  "  What  would  you 
have  said,"  observed  .^schines,  when  his  recital  of  his 
great  rival's  celebrated  Speech  on  the  Crown  was  re- 
ceived with  a  burst  of  admiration — "  what  would  you 
have  said,  had  yon  heard  him  speak  it  ?" 

The  subject  is  far  from  having  failed  to  engage  atten- 
tion :  of  the  prevailing  deficiency  of  this,  more  than  of 
any  other  qualification  of  a  perfect  Orator,  many  have 
complained ;  and  several  have  laboured  to  remove  it : 
l>ut  it  may  safely  be  asserted,  that  their  endeavours  have 
6een,  at  the  very  best,  entirely  unsuccessful.  Probably 
not  a  single  instance  could  be  found  of  any  one  who  has 
attained,  by  the  study  of  any  system  of  instruction  that 
has  hitherto  appeared,  a  really  good  Delivery ;  but  there 
are  many — probably  nearly  as  many  as  have  fully  tried 
the  experiment — who  have  by  this  means  been  totally 
spoiled  ; — who  have  fallen  irrecoverably  into  an  affect- 
ed style  of  spouting,  worse,  in  all  respects,  than  their 


254  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

original  mode  of  Delivery.  Many  accordingly  have, 
not  unreasonably,  conceived  a  disgust  for  the  subject 
altogether;  considering  it  hopeless  that  Elocution  should 
be  taught  by  any  rules;  and  acquiescing  in  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  entirely  a  gift  of  nature, 
or  an  accidental  acquirement  of  practice.  It  is  to  coun- 
teract the  prejudice  which  may  result  from  these  feel- 
ings, that  I  profess  in  the  outset  a  dissent  from  the  prin- 
ciples generally  adopted,  and  lay  claim  to  some  degree 
of  originality  in  my  own.  Novelty  affords  at  least  an 
opening  for  hope ;  and  the  only  opening,  when  former 
attempts  have  met  with  total  failure.* 
Requisites  §  2.  The  requisites  of  Elocution  corres- 
of  Elocu-  pond  in  great  measure  with  those  of  Style  : 
tlon-  Correct  Enunciation,  in  opposition  both  to 

indistinct  utterance,  and  to  vulgar  and  dialectic  pronun- 
ciation, may  be  considered  as  answering  to  Purity, 
Grammatical  Propriety,  and  absence  of  Obsolete  or 
otherwise  Unintelligible  words.  These  qualities,  of 
Style,  and  of  Elocution,  being  equally  required  in  com- 
mon conversation,  do  not  properly  fall  within  the  pro- 
vince of  Rhetoric.  The  three  qualities,  again,  which 
have  been  treated  of,  under  the  head  of  Style,  viz.  Per- 
spicuity, Energy,  and  Elegance,  may  be  regarded  as 
equally  requisites  of  Elocution ;  which,  in  order  to  be 
perfect,  must  convey  the  meaning  clearly,  forcibly,  and 
agreeably. 

Reading  §  3.  Before,  however,  I  enter  upon  any 

and  Speak-  separate  examination  of  these  requisites,  it 
ing*  will  be  necessary  to  premise  a  few  remarks 

on  the  distinction  between  the  two  branches  of  Delivery, 
viz.  Reading  aloud,  and  Speaking.  The  object  of  cor- 
rect Reading  is,  to  convey  to  the  hearers,  through  the 
medium  of  the  ear,  what  is  conveyed  to  the  reader  by 
the  eye; — to  put  them  in  the  same  situation  with  him 
who  has  the  book  before  him; — to  exhibit  to  them,  in 
short,  by  the  voice,  not  only  each  word,  but  also  all  tha 
*  This  is,  in  substance,  one  of  Bacon's  Aphorisms. 


CfcAP.  I.  §  3.]  OF  ELOCUTION.  253 

stops,  paragraphs,  italic  characters,  notes  of  interroga- 
tion, &c*  which  his  sight  presents  to  him.  His  voice 
seems  to  indicate  to  them,  "  thus  and  thus  it  is  written 
in  the  book  or  manuscript  before  me."  Im- 
pressive reading  superadds  to  this,  some  de-  r™ap&ng!Ve 
gree  of  adaptation  of  the  tones  of  voice  to 
the  character  of  the  subject,  and  of  the  style.  What  is 
usually  termed  fine  Heading  seems  to  convey,  in  addi- 
tion to  these,  a  kind  of  admonition  to  the  hearers  re- 
specting the  feelings  which  the  composition  ought  to 
excite  in  them  :  it  appears  to  say,  "  this  deserves  your 
admiration  ; — this  is  sublime ; — this  is  pathetic,  &c." 

But  Speaking,  i.  e.  natural  speaking,  when  speaking 
the  Speaker  is  uttering  his  own  sentiments, 
and  is  thinking  exclusively  of  them,  has  something  in 
it  distinct  from  all  this;  it  conveys,  by  the  sounds 
which  reach  the  ear,  the  idea,  that  what  is  said  is  the 
effusion  of  the  Speaker's  own  mind,  which  he  is  desi- 
rous of  imparting  to  others.  A  decisive  proof  of  which 
is,  that  if  any  one  overhears  the  voice  of  another,  to 
whom  he  is  an  utter  stranger — suppose  in  the  next  room 
— without  being  able  to  catch  the  sense  of  what  is  said, 

*  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  even  tolerable  reading  aloud,  sup 
plies  more  than  is  exhibited  by  a  book  to  the  eye  ;  since  though 
italics,  e.  g.  indicate  which  word  is  to  receive  the  emphasis,  they 
do  not  point  out  the  tone  in  which  it  is  to  be  pronounced  ;  which 
may  be  essential  to  the  right  understanding  of  the  sentence  ;  «.  g. 
in  such  a  sentence  as  in  Genesis  i.  "  God  said,  Let  there  be  light ; 
and  there  was  light :"  here  we  can  indicate  indeed  to  the  eye  that 
the  stress  is  to  be  upon  "was;"  but  it  maybe  pronounced  in  dif- 
ferent tones  ;  one  of  which  would  alter  the  sense,  by  implying 
that  there  was  light  already. 

This  is  true  indeed  ;  and  it  is  also  true,  that  the  very  words  them 
selves  are  not  always  presented  to  the  eye  with  the  same  distinc 
tions  as  are  to  be  conveyed  to  the  ear  ;  as,  t.  g.  "  abuse,"  "  refuse, '- 
"  project,"  and  many  others,  are  pronounced  differently,  as  nouns 
and  as  verbs.  This  ambiguity,  however,  in  our  written  signs,  as 
well  as  the  other,  relative  to  the  emphatic  words,  are  imperfections 
which  will  not  mislead  a  moderately  practised  reader.  My  mean- 
ing, in  saying  that  such'  reading  as  I  am  speaking  of  puts  tha 
hearers  in  the  same  situation  as  if  the  book  were  before  them,  is 
to  be  understood  on  the  supposition  of  their  being  able  not  only  to, 
read,  but  to  read  so  as  to  take  in  the  full  sense  of  what  is  written.. 


258  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

he  will  hardly  ever  be  for  a  moment  at  a  loss  to  decide 
whether  he  is  Reading  or  Speaking  ;  and  this,  though 
the  hearer  may  not  be  one  who  has  ever  paid  any  criti- 
cal attention  to  the  various  modulations  of  the  human 
voice.  So  wide  is  the  difference  of  the  tones  employed 
on  these  two  occasions,  be  the  subject  what  it  may.* 
Attention  ^he  difference  of  effect  produced  is  pro- 

eonnested  portionably  great :  the  personal  sympathy 
with  sym-  fejt  towards  one  who  appears  to  be  deliver- 
ing his  own  sentiments  is  such,  that  it  usu 
ally  rivets  the  attention,  even  involuntarily,  though  to 
a  discourse  which  appears  hardly  worthy  of  it.  It  is 
not  easy  for  an  auditor  to  fall  asleep  while  he  is  hear- 
ing even  perhaps  feeble  reasoning,  clothed  in  indiffer- 
ent language,  delivered  extemporaneously,  and  in  an 
unaffected  style ;  whereas  it  is  common  for  men  to  find 
a  difficulty  in  keeping  themselves  awake,  while  listen- 
ing even  to  a  good  dissertation,  of  the  same  length,  or 
even  shorter,  on  a  subject,  not  uninteresting  to  them, 
when  read,  though  with  propriety,  and  not  in  a  languid 
manner  And  the  thoughts,  even  of  those  not  disposed 
to  be  drowsy,  are  apt  to  wander,  unless  they  use  an  ef- 
fort from  time  to  time  to  prevent  it ;  while  on  the  other 
hand  it  is  notoriously  difficult  to  withdraw  our  attention 
even  from  a  trifling  talker  of  whom  we  are  weary,  and 
to  occupy  the  mind  with  reflections  of  its  own. 

Of  the  two  branches  of  Elocution  which  have  been 

*  "  At  every  sentence  let  them  ask  themselves  this  question  ; 
How  should  I  utter  this,  were  I  speaking  it  as  my  own  immediate 
sentiments? — I  have  often  tried  an  experiment  to  show  the  great 
difference  between  these  two  modes  of  utterance,  the  natural  and 
the  artificial ;  which  was,  that  when  I  found  a  person  of  vivacity 
delivering  his  sentiments  with  energy,  and  of  course  with  all  that 
variety  of  tones  which  nature  furnishes,  I  have  taken  occasion  to 
put  something  into  his  hand  to  read,  as  relative  to  the  topic  of  con- 
versation ;  and  it  was  surprising  to  see  what  an  immediate  change 
there  was  in  his  Delivery,  from  the  moment  he  began  to  read.  A 
different  pitch  of  voice  took  place  of  his  natural  one,  and  a  tedioua 
uniformity  of  cadence  succeeeded  to  a  spirited  variety  ;  insomuch 
that  a  blind  man  could  hardly  conceive  the  person  who  read  to  ba 
the  same  who  had  just  been  speaking."    Sheridan,  Jlrt  of  Reading 


Shap.  I.  §  4.]  OF  ELOCUTION.  257 

just  mentioned,  it  might,  at  first  sight,  appear  as  if  one 
only,  that  of  the  Speaker,  came  under  the  province  of 
Rhetoric.  But  it  will  be  evident,  on  consideration,  thai 
both  must  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  regarded  as  connected 
with  our  present  subject ;  not  merely  because  many  of 
the  same  principles  are  applicable  to  both,  but  because 
any  one  who  delivers  (as  is  so  commonly  the  case)  a 
written  composition  of  his  own,  may  be  reckoned  as 
belonging  to  either  class ;  as  a  Reader  who  is  the  author 
of  what  he  reads,  or  as  a  Speaker  who  supplies  the 
deficiency  of  his  memory  by  writing.  And  again,  in 
the  (less  common)  case  where  a  speaker  is  delivering 
without  book,  and  from  memory  alone,  a  written  com- 
position, either  his  own  or  another's,  though  this  cannot 
in  strictness  be  called  Reading,  yet  the  tone  of  it  will  be 
very  likely  to  resemble  that  of  Reading.  In  the  other 
case — that  where  the  author  is  actually  reading  his  own 
composition,  he  will  be  still  more  likely,  notwithstand- 
ing its  being  his  own,  to  approach  in  the  Delivery  of  it 
to  the  Elocution  of  a  Reader ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  possible  for  him,  even  without  actually  deceiving  the 
hearers  into  the  belief  that  he  is  speaking  extempore,  to 
approach  indefinitely  near  to  that  style. 

The  difficulty  however  of  doing  this,  to  one  who  has 
the  writing  actually  before  him,  is  considerable;  and  it 
is  of  course  far  greater  when  the  composition  is  not  his 
own.  And  as  it  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said, 
that  this  (as  it  may  be  called)  Extemporaneous  style  of 
Elocution,  is  much  the  more  impressive,  it  becomes  an 
interesting  inquiry,  how  the  difficulty  in  question  may 
be  best  surmounted. 

§  4.  Little,  if  any,  attention  has  been  Artificial 
bestowed  on  this  point  by  the  writers  on  style  of 
Elocution ;  the  distinction  above  pointed  out  Elocution- 
between  Reading  and  Speaking  having  seldom,  or  never, 
been  precisely  stated  and  dwelt  on.  Several  however 
have  writen  elaborately  on  "  good  Reading,"  or  on 
E'jcution,  generally.-  and  it  is  not  to  be  denied,  that 


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.' 

-  :.  -.r.  . .-   ■    _-:    .:'  ":.:  ^  v  -  ~-  :  -.  : :::-::    ritiate crerjr 

:     7-       : .;:__■_  :T  :~~  : .;"  -  ;    =    :  I  :    very    :  iirZ^s.z 

- 

-  : 

each  poBBag  —      .-ame  ru/«s 

.    - 
.\:--ir.y   :.-:    carefully   k    ::':::-    Ike 
form  a  complete 
---.-..:  I  ..-■..  ' 

.: .-:-. ■  :-.-    ::~: .-. : .  \ ■-  :i    -  ::'  :: -.:  very  object, and  even 
produces,  onener  than  not,  e5e: 

.■ 

- 

■_:.:  :_  _r :.:  :::  :i  =  vr;  7:.---.  •: .  .-.  :—;:.:  ::   :1t  ::    - 


a.-.:    :.^r.z  ■■-7--.;   k  :.:•    .-'    i:r-~~v.-.  in: 
— :_i:   :::    :~   ;:'   1.--.   ^  :.r   :lz--.  ;-    ~i::_   ;^:.   :; .•■- 

-     -   .      -  - 
nmmriMkrt  stnikweij  to  obser 

-     ■ . . 

1  r.  A.  Smith  rem:, 
ovri   utterance,  which  will  aim : 


Chap.  I.  §  i.]         OF  ELOCUTION.  253 

the  case  with  every  one  who  is  doing  so,  Excellence 
is  sure  to  give  offence,  and  to  be  censured  in  matter 
for  an  arlected  delivery  ;  because  every  one  is  ^n^ntde£i" 
expected  to  attend  exclusively  to  the  proper  aimed  at  in 
object  of  the  action  he  is  engaged  in  :  which,  orp- 
in this  case,  is  the  expression  of  the  thoughts  *  ajs' 
— not  the  sound  of  the  expressions.  Whoever  therefore 
learns,  and  endeavours  to  apply  in  practice,  any  artifi- 
cial rules  of  Elocution,  so  as  "deliberately  to  modulate 
his  voice  comformably  to  the  principles  he  has  adopted, 
(however  just  they  may  be  in  themselves,)  will  hardly 
ever  fail  to  betray  his  intention :  which  always  gives 
offence  when  perceived.  Arguments,  on  the  contrary, 
m  ust  be  deliberately  framed.  Whether  any  one's  course 
of  reasoning  be  sound  and  judicious,  or  not,  it  is  neces- 
asd  ::  is  expected,  that  it  should  be  the  result  of 
thought.  No  one,  as  Dr.  Smith  observes,  is  charged 
with  affectation  for  giving  his  attention  to  the  proper 
object  of  the  action  he  is  engaged  in.  As  therefore  the 
proper  object  of  the  Orator  is  to  adduce  convincing 
Arguments,  and  topics  of  Persuasion,  there  is  nothing 
offensive  in  his  appearing  deliberately  to  aim  at  this 
object.  He  may  indeed  weaken  the  force  of  what  is 
urged  by  too  great  an  appearance  of  elaborate  compo- 
sition, or  by  exciting  suspicion  of  rhetorical  trick;  but 
3  90  far  from  being  expected  to  pay  no  attention  to 
the  sense  of  what  he  says,  that  the  most  powerful  argu- 
ment would  lose  much  of  its  force,  if  it  were  supposed 
to  have  been  thrown  out  casually,  and  at  random. 
Here  therefore  the  employment  of  a  regular  system  (if 
founded  on  just  principles)  can  produce  no"  such  ill 
effect  as  in  the  case  of  Elocution :  since  the  habitual 
attention  which  that  implies,  to  the  choice  and  arrange- 
ment of  arguments,  is  such  as  must  take  place,  at  anv 
rate ;  whether  it  be  conducted  on  any  settled  principles 
or  not.  The  only  difference  is,  that  he  who  proceeds 
on  a  correct  system,  will  think  and  deliberate  concerning 
the  course  of  his  Reasoning,  to  better  purpose,  than  ha 


260  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Past  IV 

who  does  not :  he  will  do  well  and  easily,  what  the 
other  does  ill,  and  with  more  labour.  Both  alike  must 
bestow  their  attention  on  the  Matter  of  what  they  say, 
if  they  would  produce  any  effect ;  both  are  not  only 
allowed,  but  expected  to  do  so. 

The  two  opposite  modes  of  proceeding  therefore, 
which  are  recommended  in  respect  of  these  two  points, 
(the  Argument  and  the  Delivery.)  are,  in  fact,  both  the 
result  of  the  same  circumstance ;  viz.  that  the  speaker 

expected  to  bestow  his  whole  attention  on  the  proper 
Dusiness  of  his  speech ;  which  is,  not  the  Elocution, 
but  the  Matter.* 

Natural  §  5-  ^nen  however  I  protest  against  ail 

style  of  artificial  systems  of  Elocution,  and  all  direct 
Elocution,  attention  to  Delivery,  at  the  time,  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  a  general  inattention  to  that  point  is 
recommended ;  or  that  the  most  perfect  Elocution  is  to 
be  attained  by  never  thinking  at  all  on  trie  subject; 
though  it  may  safely  be  affirmed  that  even  this  negative 
plan  would  succeed  far  better  than  a  studied  modulation. 
But  it  is  evident  that  if  any  one  wishes  to  assume  the 
Speaker  as  far  as  possible,  i.  e.  to  deliver  a  written  com- 
position with  some  degree  of  the  manner  and  effect  of  one 
that  is  extemporaneous,  he  will  have  a  considerable  diffi- 
culty to  surmount :  since  though  this  may  be  called,  in  a 
certain  sense,  the  Natural  Manxer,  it  is  far  from  being 
what  he  will  naturally,  i.  e.  spontaneously,  fall  into.  It 
is  by  no  means  natural  for  any  one  to  read  as  if  he  were 
not  reading,  but  speaking.  And  again,  even  when  any 
Dne  is  reading  what  he  does  not  wish  to  deliver  as  his 
own  composition,  a*,  for  instance,  a  portion  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, or  the  Liturgy,  it  is  evident  that  this  may  be  done 
better  or  worse,  in  infinite  degrees ;  and  that  though 
(according  to  the  views  here  taken)  a  studied  attention 

*  Style  occupies  in  some  respects  an  intermediate  place  between 
these  two  ;  in  what  degree  each  quality  of  it  should  or  should  not 
be  made  an  object  of  attention  at  the  time  of  composing,  and  how  far 
the  appearance  of  such  attention  is  tolerated,  has  oeen  already 
treated  of  in  the  preceding  part. 


Chap  II  §  2.]        OF  ELOCUTION.  261 

to  the  sounds  uttered,  at  the  time  of  uttering  them,  leads 
to  an  affected  and  offensive  delivery,  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  an  utterly  careless  reader  cannot  be  a  good  one 


Chap.  II. — Artificial  and  Natural  Methods  compared, 

§  1.  With  a  view  to  Perspicuity  then,  the 
first  requisite  in  all  Delivery,  viz.  that  quality  ea  Jns* 
which  makes  the  meaning  fully  understood  by  the 
hearers,  the  great  point  is  that  the  Reader  (to  confine  our 
attention  for  the  present  to  that  branch)  should  appear 
to  understand  what  he  reads.  If  the  composition  be, 
in  itself,  intelligible  to  the  persons  addressed,  he  will 
make  them  fully  understand  it,  by  so  delivering  it.  But 
to  this  end,  it  is  not  enough  that  he  should  himself  ac- 
tually understand  it ;  it  is  possible,  notwithstanding,  to 
read  it  as  if  he  did  not.  And  in  like  manner  with  a 
view  to  the  quality,  which  has  been  here  called  Energy, 
it  is  not  sufficient  that  he  should  himself  feel,  and  be 
impressed  with  the  force  of  what  he  utters ;  he  may, 
notwithstanding,  deliver  it  as  if  he  were  unimpressed. 

§  2.  The  remedy  that  has  been  commonly 
proposed  for  these  defects,  is  to  point  out  in 
such  a  work,  for  instance,  as  the  Liturgy,  which  words 
ought  to  be  marked  as  emphatic — in  what  places  the 
voice  is  to  be  suspended,  raised,  lowered,  &c.  One  of 
the  best  writers  on  the  subject,  Sheridan,  in  his  Lectures 
on  the  art  of  Reading,*  (whose  remarks  on  many  points 
coincide  with  the  principles  here  laid  down,  though  he 
differs  from  me  on  the  main  question — as  to  the  System 
to  be  practically  followed  with  a  view  to  the  proposed 
object,)  adopts  a  peculiar  set  of  marks  for  denoting  the 
different  pauses,  emphases,  &c.  and  applied  these,  with 

»  See  note,  p.  256.  It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  most  of 
the  objections  I  have  adduced  do  not  apply  to  this  or  that  system 
in  particular  ;  to  Sheridan's  for  instance,  as  distinguished  from 
Walker's  ;  but,  to  all  such  systems  generally  ;  as  may  be  seen 
from  what  is  said  in  the  present  section. 


262  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.       [Part  IV 

accompanying  explanatory  observations,  to  the  greatei 
part  of  the  Liturgy,  and  to  an  Essay  subjoined  ;*  re- 
commending that  the  habit  should  be  formed  of  regu- 
lating the  voice  by  his  marks;  and  that  afterwards 
readers  should  "  write  out  such  parts  as  they  want  to 
deliver  properly,  without  any  of  the  usual  stops;  and, 
after  having  considered  them  well,  mark  the  pauses  and 
emphases  by  the  new  signs  which  have  been  annexed 
to  them,  according  to  the  best  of  their  judgment,"  &c. 

To  the  adoption  of  any  such  artificial  scheme,  there 
are  three  weighty  objections ;  first,  that  the  proposed 
system  must  necessarily  be  imperfect ;  secondly,  that  if 
it  were  perfect,  it  would  be  a  circuitous  path  to  the  ob- 
ject in  view ;  and  thirdly,  that  even  if  both  those  objec- 
tions were  removed,  the  object  would  not  be  effectually 
obtained. 

Imperfec-  First,  such  a  system  must  necessarily  be 

tionofthe  imperfect;  because,  though  the  emphatic 
artificial  word  in  each  sentence  may  easily  be  point- 
ed out  in  writing,  no  variety  of  marks  that 
could  be  invented — not  even  musical  notation — wouia 
suffice  to  indicate  the  different  tones]  in  which  the 
different  emphatic  words  should  be  pronounced ;  though 
on  this  depends  frequently  the  whole  force,  and  even 
sense  of  the  expression.  Take,  as  an  instance,  the 
words  of  Macbeth  in  the  witches'  cave,  when  he  is  ad- 
dressed by  one  of  the  Spirits  which  they  raise,  "  Mac- 
beth !  Macbeth !  Macbeth  !"  on  which  he  exclaims, 
"  Had  I  three  ears  I'd  hear  thee  ;"  no  one  would  dis- 
pute that  the  stress  is  to  be  laid  on  the  word  "  three;" 
and  thus  much  might  be  indicated  to  the  reader's  eye ; 
but  if  he  had  nothing  else  to  trust  to,  he  might  chance 
to  deliver  the  passage  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  utterly 
absurd ;  for  it  is  possible  to  pronounce  the  emphatic 
word  "three,"  in  such  a  tone  as  to  indicate  that iC  since 
he  has  but  two  ears  he  cannot  hear."  Again,  the  fol- 
lowing passage,  (Mark  iv.  21,)  "  Is  a  candle  brought  to 
See  Appendix,  [INT.]  t  See  Note.  p.  355 


Chap.  II.  §  2.]        OF  ELOCUTION.  263 

be  put  under  a  bushel,  or  under  a  bed,"  I  have  heard  so 
pronounced  as  to  imply  that  there  is  no  other  alterna- 
tive; and  yet  the  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  right  words. 
A  would  be  nearly  as  hopeless  a  task  to  attempt  ade- 
quately to  convey,  by  any  written  marks,  precise  direc- 
tions as  to  the  rate — the  degree  of  rapidity  or  slowness 
— with  which  each  sentence  and  clause  should  be  de- 
livered. Longer  and  shorter  pauses  may  indeed  be 
easily  denoted ;  and  marks  may  be  used,  similar  to  those 
in  music,  to  indicate,  generally,  quick,  slow,  or  moderate 
time  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  variations  which  actu- 
ally take  place  are  infinite — far  beyond  what  any  marks 
could  suggest  ;  and  that  much  of  the  force  of  what  is 
said  depends  on  the  degree  of  rapidity  with  which  it  is 
uttered  ;  chiefly  on  the  relative  rapidity  of  one  part  in 
comparison  of  another.  For  instance,  in  such  a  sen- 
tence as  the  following,  in  one  of  the  Psalms,  which  one 
may  usually  hear  read  at  one  uniform  rate  ;  "  all  men 
that  see  it  shall  say,  This  hath  God  done ;  for  they  shall 

f)erceive  that  it  is  his  work ;"  the  four  words  "  this 
lath  God  done,"  though  monosyllables,  ought  to  occupy 
very  little  less  time  in  utterance  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
verse  together. 

2dly.  But  were  it  even  possible  to  bring  Circuitous 
to  the  highest  perfection  the  proposed  sys-  ness  of  the 
tem  of  marks)  it  would  still  be  a  circuitous  artificial 
road  to  the  desired  end.     Suppose  it  could  be  SJS  em' 
completely  indicated  to  the  eye,  in  what  tone  each  word 
and  sentence  should  be  pronounced  according  to  the  se- 
veral occasions,  the  learner  might  ask,  "  but  why  should 
this  tone  suit  the  awful — this,  the  pathetic — this,  the 
narrative  style  ?  why  is  this  mode  of  delivery  adopted 
for  a  command — this,  for  an  exhortation — this,  for  a 
supplication  ?"    &c.     The  only  answer  that  could  be 
given,  is,  that  these  tones,  emphases,  &c.  are  a  part  of 
the  language  ; — that  nature,  or  custom,  which  is  a  se- 
cond  nature,   suggests  spontaneously  these   different 
modes  of  giving  expression  to  the  different  thoughts, 


264  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

feelings,  and  designs,  which  are  present  to  the  mind  of 
any  one  who,  without  study,  is  speaking  in  earnest  his 
Dwn  sentiments.  Then,  if  this  be  the  case,  why  not 
leave  nature  to  do  her  own  work  ?  Impress  but  the 
mind  fully  with  the  sentiments,  &c.  to  be  uttered  ;  with- 
draw the  attention  from  the  sound,  and  fix  it  on  the 
sense  ;  and  nature,  or  habit,  will  spontaneously  suggest 
the  proper  delivery.  That  this  will  be  the  case,  is  not 
only  true,  but  is  the  very  supposition  on  which  the  ar- 
tificial system  proceeds ;  for  it  professes  to  teach  the 
mode  of  delivery  naturally  adapted  to  each  occasion. 
It  is  surely,  therefore,  a  circuitous  path  that  is  proposed, 
when  the  learner  is  directed,  first  to  consider  how  each 
passage  ought  to  be  read  ;  i.  e.  what  mode  of  delivering 
each  part  of  it  would  spontaneously  occur  to  him,  if  he 
were  attending  exclusively  to  the  matter  of  it ;  then,  to 
observe  all  the  modulations,  &c.  of  voice,  which  take 
place  in  such  a  delivery ;  then,  to  note  these  down,  by 
established  marks,  in  writing ;  and,  lastly,  to  pronounce 
according  to  these  marks.  This  seems  like  recommend- 
ing, for  the  purpose  of  raising  the  hand  to  the  mouth, 
that  he  should  first  observe,  when  performing  that  ac- 
tion without  thought  of  anything  else,  what  muscles  are 
eontracted — in  what  degrees — and  in  what  order ;  then, 
that  he  should  note  down  these  observations ;  and  lastly, 
that  he  should,  in  conformity  with  these  notes,  contract 
each  muscle  in  due  degree,  and  in  proper  order ;  to  the 
end  that  he  maybe  enabled,  after  all,  to — lift  his  hand  to 
his  mouth ;  which  by  supposition,  he  had  already  done 
Such  instruction  is  like  that  bestowed  by  Moliere's  pe- 
dantic tutor  upon  his  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme,  who  was 
taught,  to  his  infinite  surprise  and  delight,  what  configu- 
rations of  the  mouth  he  employed  in  pronouncing  the 
several  letters  of  the  alphabet,  which  he  had  been  ac- 
customed to  utter  all  his  life,  without  knowing  how.* 

*  "  QiCest-ce  que  vous  faites  quand  vous  prononcez  O  ?  Mais  jt 
dis,  0!" 

An  answer  which,  if  not  savouring  of  Philosophical  analysis 
gave  at  least  a  good  practical  solution  of  the  problem. 


Chap.  II.  §  3.]        OF  ELOCUTION.  265 

3.    Lastly,  waiving  both  the  above  ob- 
jections, if  a  person  could  learn  thus  to  read  Appearance 
and  speak,  as  it  were,  by  note,  with  the  same  Jon  Jesuit- 
fluency  and  accuracy  as  are  attainable  in  the  ing  from  the 
case  of  singing,  still  the  desired  object  of  a  Jjjjjj1 
perfectly  natural  as  well  as  correct  Elocu-  sys  ° 
tion,  would  never  be  in  this  way  attained.     The  read- 
er's attention  being  fixed  on  his  own  voice,  (which  in 
singing,  and  there  only,  is  allowed  and  expected,)  the 
inevitable  consequence  would  be  that  he  would  betray 
more  or  less  his  studied  and  artificial  Delivery ;  and 
would,  in  the  same  degree,  manifest  an  offensive  arlec- 
tation. 

It  should  be  observed,  however,  that,  in  the  reading 
of  the  Liturgy  especially,  so  many  gross  faults  are  be- 
come quite  familiar  to  many,  from  what  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  hear,  if  not  from  their  own  practice,  as  to  ren- 
der it  peculiarly  difficult  to  unlearn,  or  even  detect  them ; 
and  as  an  aid  towards  the  exposure  of  such  faults,  there 
may  be  great  advantage  in  studying  Sheridan's  observa- 
tions and  directions  respecting  the  delivery  of  it ;  pro- 
vided care  be  taken,  in  practice,  to  keep  clear  of  his 
faulty  principle,  by  withdrawing  the  attention  from  the 
sound  of  the  voice,  as  carefully  as  he  recommends  it  to 
be  directed  to  that  point. 

§  3.  The  practical  rule  then  to  be  adopt-  Natural 
ed,  in  conformity  with  the  principles  here  manner 
maintained,  is,  not  only  to  pay  no  studied  h° w  to  be 
attention  to  the  voice,   but  studiously   to 
withdraw  the  thoughts  from  it,  and  to  dwell  as  intently 
as  possible  on  the  Sense ;  trusting  to  nature  to  suggest 
spontaneously  the  proper  emphases  and  tones. 

Many  persons  are  so  far  impressed  with  the  truth  of 
the  doctrine  here  inculcated,  as  to  acknowledge  that 
"  it  is  a  great  fault  for  a  reader  to  be  too  much  occupied 
with  thoughts  respecting  his  own  voice ;  and  thus  they 
think  to  steer  a  middle  course  between  opposite  extremes 
But  it  should  be  remembered  that  this  middle  course 
21       • 


266  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC       [Part  IV. 

entirely  nullifies  the  whole  advantage  proposed  by  the 
plan  recommended.  A  reader  is  sure  to  pay  too  much 
attention  to  his  voice,  not  only  if  he  pays  any  at  all,  but 
if  he  does  not  strenuously  labour  to  withdraw  his  at- 
tention from  it  altogether. 

He  who  not  only  understands  fully  what  he  is  read- 
ing, but  is  earnestly  occupying  his  mind  with  the  mat- 
ter of  it,  will  be  likely  to  read  as  if  he  understood  it,  and 
thus  to  make  others  understand  it  ;*  and  in  like  manner, 
with  a  view  to  the  impressiveness  of  the  delivery,  he 
who  not  only  feels  it,  but  is  exclusively  absorbed  with 
that  feeling,  will  be  likely  to  read  as  if  he  felt  it,  and 
to  communicate  the  impression  to  his  hearers.  But  this 
cannot  be  the  case  if  he  is  occupied  with  the  thought 
of  what  their  opinion  will  be  of  his  reading,  and  how  his 
voice  ought  to  be  regulated  ;  if,  in  short,  he  is  thinking 
of  himself,  and,  of  course,  in  the  szme  degree,  abstract- 
ing his  attention  from  that  which  ought  to  occupy  it 
exclusively. 

Tt  is  not,  indeed,  desirable,  that  in  reading  the  Bible, 
for  example,  or  any  thing  which  is  not  intended  to  ap- 
pear as  his  own  composition,  he  should  deliver  what 
are  avowedly,  another's  sentiments,  in  the  same  style, 
as  if  they  were  such  as  arose  in  his  own  mind ;  but  it 
is  desirable  that  he  should  deliver  them  as  if  he  were 
reporting  another's  sentiments,  which  were  both  fully 
understood,  and  felt  in  all  their  force  by  the  reporter 

*  Who,  for  instance,  that  was  really  thinking  of  a  resurrection 
from  the  dead,  would  ever  tell  any  one  that  our  Lord  "  rose  again 
from  the  dead  ;"  (which  is  so  common  a  mode  of  reading  the  creed,) 
as  if  he  had  done  so  more  than  once  1 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  it  is  not  enough  for  a  readez 
to  have  his  mind  fixed  on  the  subject ;  without  regard  to  the  occa 
sion,  &c.  It  is  possible  to  read  a  prayer  well,  with  the  tone  and 
manner  of  a  man  %vhois  not  praying,  i.  e.  addressing  the  Deity,  but 
addressing  the  audience,  and  reciting  a  form  of  words  for  their  in 
struction  :  and  such  is  generally  the  case  with  those  who  are  com- 
mended as  "  fine  readers  "  of  the  Liturgy.  Extemporaneous  prayers 
again  are  generally  delivered,  with  spirit  indeed,  but  (after  the  few 
first  sentences)  not  as  prayers,  but  as  exhortation?  to  the  congr* 
gatien 


Chap.  II.  §  4.]         OF  ELOCUTION.  267 

and  the  only  way  to  do  this  effectually — with  such 
modulations  of  voice,  &c.  as  are  suitable  to  each  word 
and  passage,  is  to  fix  his  mind  earnestly  on  the  meaning, 
and  leave  nature  and  habit  to  suggest  the  utterance. 
§  4.  Some  may,  perhaps,  suppose  that  this  Difficui. 
amounts  to  the  same  thing  as  taking  no  pains  ties  in  the 
at  all ;  and  if  with  this  impression,  they  at-  natural 
tempt  to  try  the  experiment  of  a  natural  manner 
Delivery,  their  ill-success  will  probably  lead  them  to 
censure  the  proposed  method,  for  the  failure  resulting 
from  their  own  mistake.  Jn  truth,  it  is  by  no  means  a 
very  easy  task,  to  fix  the  attention  on  the  meaning,  in 
the  manner  and  to  the  degree  now  proposed.  The 
thoughts  of  one  who  is  reading  anything  very  familiar 
to  him,  are  apt  to  wander  to  other  subjects,  though  per- 
haps such  as  are  connected  with  that  which  is  before 
him  ;  if,  again,  it  be  something  new  to  him,  he  is  apt 
(not  indeed  to  wander  to  another  subject,  but)  to  get  the 
start,  as  it  were,  of  his  readers,  and  to  be  thinking, 
while  uttering  each  sentenee,  not  of  that,  but  of  the  sen- 
tence which  comes  next.  And  in  both  cases,  if  he  is 
careful  to  avoid  those  faults,  and  is  desirous  of  reading 
well,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty,  and  calls  for 
a  constant  effort  to  prevent  the  mind  from  wandering 
in  another  direction;  viz.  into  thoughts  respecting  his 
own  voice— respecting  the  effect  produced  by  each  sound 
— the  approbation  he  hopes  for  from  the  hearers,  &c. 
And  this  is  the  prevailing  fault  of  those  who  are  com- 
monly said  to  take  great  pains  in  their  reading  ;  pains 
which  will  always  be  taken  in  vain  with  a  view  to  the 
true  object  to  be  aimed  at,  as  long  as  the  effort  is  thus 
applied  in  a  wrong  direction.  With  a  view,  indeed,  to 
a  very  different  object,  the  approbation  bestowed  on  the 
reading,  this  artificial  delivery  will  often  be  more  suc- 
cessful than  the  natural.  Pompous  spouting,  and  many 
other  descriptions  of  unnatural  tone  and  measured  ca- 
dence, are  frequently  admired  by  many  as  excellent 
reading;  which  admiraion  is  itself  a  proof  that  it  is 


268  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  iv 

not  deserved  ;  for  when  the  delivery  is  really  good,  the 
hearers  (except  any  one  who  may  deliberately  set  him- 
self to  observe  and  criticise)  never  think  about  it,  but 
are  exclusively  occupied  with  the  sense  it  conveys,  and 
the  feelings  it  excites. 

Advantages  Still  more  to  increase  the  difficulty  of  the 
of  imitation  method  here  recommended,  (for  it  is  no  less 
precluded  wjse  than  honest  to  take  a  fair  view  of  diffi- 
tion  oftheP"  culties,)  this  circumstance  is  to  be  noticed, 
natural  that  he  who  is  endeavouring  to  bring  it  into 
manner.  practice,  is  in  a  great  degree  precluded  from 
the  advantage  of  imitation.  A  person  who  hears  and 
approves  a  good  reader  in  the  Natural  manner,  may, 
indeed,  so  far  imitate  him  with  advantage,  as  to  adopt 
his  plan,  ot  fixing  his  attention  on  the  matter,  and  not 
thinking  about  his  voice  ;  but  this  very  plan,  evidently, 
by  its  nature,  precludes  any  further  imitation ;  for  if 
while  reading,  he  is  thinking  of  copying  the  manner  of 
his  model,  he  will,  for  that  very  reason,  be  unlike  tha. 
model ;  the  main  principle  of  the  proposed  method  be- 
ing, carefully  to  exclude  every  such  thought.  Whereas 
any  artificial  system  may  as  easily  be  learned  by  imita- 
tion as  the  notes  of  a  song. 

Advantages  Practice,  also  (?'.  e.  private  practice  for  the 
of  practice  sake  of  learning)  is  much  more  difficult  in 
precluded  tne  proposed  method ;  because,  the  rule  be- 
tion^the'  in»>  to  use  such  a  delivery  as  is  suited,  not 
natural  only  to  the  matter  of  what  is  said,  but  also, 
manner.  Qf  course)  [0  fae  piace  and  occasion,  and  this, 
not  by  any  studied  modulations,  but  according  to  the 
spontaneous  suggestions  of  the  matter,  place,  and  occa- 
sion, to  one  whose  mind  is  fully  and  exclusively  occu- 
pied with  these,  it  follows,  that  he  who  would  practise 
this  method  in  private,  must,  by  a  strong  effort  of  a 
vivid  imagination,  figure  to  himself  a  place  and  an  oc- 
casion which  are  not  present;  otherwise,  he  will  eithei 
be  thinking  of  his  delivery,  (which  is  fatal  to  his  pro- 
posed object,)  or  else  will  ise  a  delivery  suited  to  the 


Chap.  III.  §  1.]       OF  ELOCUTION.  269 

situation  in  which  he  actually  is,  and  not,  to  that  for 
which  he  would  prepare  himself.  Any  system,  on  the 
contrary,  of  studied  emphasis  and  regulation  of  the 
voice,  may  be  learned  in  private  practice  as  easily  as 


Chap.  III. — Considerations  arising  from  the  differences 
between  Reading  and  Speaking. 

§  1.  Some  additional  objections  to  the  method  I  have 
recommended,  and  some  further  remarks  on  the  counter- 
balancing advantages  of  it  will  be  introduced  presently, 
when  I  shall  have  first  offered  some  observations  on 
Speaking,  and  on  that  branch  of  Heading  which  the 
most  nearly  approaches  to  it. 

When  any  one  delivers  a  written  composition,  of 
which  he  is,  or  is  supposed  to  profess  himself,  the  au- 
thor, he  has  peculiar  difficulties  to  encounter,*  if  his 

*  It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  to  the  members  of  our 
Church)  the  difficulty  of  reading  the  Liturgy  with  spirit,  and  even 
with  propriety,  is  something  peculiar,  on  account  of  (what  has 
been  already  remarked)  the  inveterate  and  long-established  faults 
to  which  almost  every  one's  ears  are  become  familiar  ;  so  that  such 
a  delivery  as  would  shock  any  one  of  even  moderate  taste,  in  any 
other  composition,  he  will,  in  this,  be  likely  to  tolerate,  and  to 
practise.  Some,  e.  g-  in  the  Liturgy,  read,  "  have  mercy  xipon  us, 
miserable  sinners  ;"  and  others,  "  have  mercy  upon  us,  miserable 
sinners  :"  both,  laying  the  stress  on  a  wrong  word,  and  making 
the  pause  in  the  wrong  place,  so  as  to  disconnect  "  us  "  and  "  mis- 
erable sinners  ;"  which  the  context  requires  us  to  combine.  Every 
one,  in  expressing  his  own  natural  sentiments,  would  say  "  have 
mercy  upon  us-miserable-sinners." 

Many  are  apt  even  to  commit  so  gross  an  error,  as  to  lay  the 
chief  stress  on  the  words  which  denote  the  most  important  things  ; 
without  any  consideration  ol  the  emphatic  xvord  of  each  sentence  : 
e.  g .  in  the  Absolution,  many  read,  "  let  us  beseech  Him  to  grant 
us  true  repentance;"  because,  forsooth,  "true  repentance"  is  an 
important  thing  ;  not  considering  that,  as  it  has  been  just  mentioned, 
ft  is  not  the  new  idea,  and  that  to  which  the  attention  should  be 
directed  by  the  emphasis  ;  the  sense  being,  that  since  God  par- 
doneth  all  that  have  true  repentance,  therefore,  we  should  "  beseech 
Him  to  grant  it  to  us." 

Tn  addition  to  the  other  difficulties  of  reading  the  Liturgy  well,  it 


270  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

object  be  to  approach  as  nearly  as  possible  to  tne  extem- 
poraneous style.  It  is  indeed  impossible  to  produce  the 
full  effect  of  that  style,  while  the  audience  are  aware 
that  the  words  he  utters  are  before  him  :  but  he  may 
approach  indefinitely  near  to  such  an  effect ;  and  in  pro- 
portion as  he  succeeds  in  this  object,  the  impression 
Compara-  produced  will  be  the  greater.  It  has  been 
tive  advan-  already  remarked,  how  easy  it  is  for  the 
tages  of  hearers  to  keep  up  their  attention— indeed, 
SmporaV  how  difficult  for  them  to  withdraw  it— when 
ry  addres-  they  are  addressed  by  one  who  is  really 
ses-  speaking  to  them  in  a  natural  and  earnest 

manner  ;  though  perhaps  the  discourse  may  be  incum- 
bered with  a  good  deal  of  the  repetition,  awkwardness 
of  expression,  and  other  faults,  incident  to  extempora- 
neous language;  and  though  it  be  prolonged  for  an 
hour  or  two,  and  yet  contain  no  more  matter  than  a  good 
writer  could  have  clearly  expressed  in  a  discourse  of 
half  an  hour ;  which  last,  if  read  to  them,  would  not, 
without  some  effort  on  their  part,  have  so  fully  detained 
their  attention.  The  advantage  in  point  of  style,  ar- 
rangement, &c.  of  written,  over  extemporaneous,  dis- 
courses, (such  at  least  as  any  but  the  most  accomplish- 
ed orators  can  produce,)  is  sufficiently  evident  :*  and  il 

should  be  mentioned,  that  prayer,  thanksgiving,  and  the  like,  even 
when  avowedly  not  of  our  own  composition,  should  be  delivered 
as  (what  in  truth  they  ought  to  be)  the  genuine  sentiments  of  our 
own  minds  at  the  moment  of  utterance  ;  which  is  not  the  case  with 
the  Scriptures,  or  with  any  thing  else  that  is  read  not  professing 
to  be  the  speaker's  own  composition. 

*  Practice  in  public  speaking  generally — practice  in  speaking  on 
the  particular  subject  in  hand — and  (on  each  occasion)  premedita- 
tion of  the  matter  and  arrangement,  are  all,  circumstances  of  great 
consequence  to  a  speaker. 

Nothing  but  a  miraculous  gift  can  supersede  these  advantages 
The  Apostles  accordingly  were  forbidden  to  use  any  premeditation, 
being  assured  that  it  "  should  be  given  them,  in  that  same  hour, 
what  they  should  say  ;"  and,  when  they  found,  in  effect,  this 
promise  fulfilled  to  them,  they  had  experience,  within  themselves, 
of  a  sensible  miracle.  This  circumstance  may  furnish  a  person  of 
Bincerity  with  a  useful  test  for  distinguishing  (in  his  own  case)  the 
emotions  of  a  fervid  imagination,  from  actual  inspiration.  It  is 
evident  that  an  inspired  preacher  can  have  nothing  to  gain  from 


Chap.  III.  §  1.]       OF  ELOCUTION.  271 

is  evident  also  that  other  advantages,  such  as  have  been 
just  alluded  to  belong  to  the  latter.  Which  is  to  be 
preferred  on  each  occasion,  and  by  each  orator,  it  does 
not  belong  to  the  present  discussion  to  inquire  ;  but  it 
's  evidently  of  the  highest  importance,  to  combine,  as 
far  as  possible,  in  each  case,  the  advantages  of  both. 

A  perfect  familiarity  with  the  rules  laid  down  in  the 
First  Part  of  this  Treatise,  would  be  likely,  it  is  hoped, 
to  give  the  extemporaneous  orator  that  habit  of  quickly 
methodizing  his  thoughts  on  a  given  subject,  which  is 
essential  (at  least  where  no  very  long  premeditation  is 
allowed)  to  give  to  a  speech  something  of  the  weight  of 
argument,  and  clearness  of  arrangement,  which  charac- 
terize good  Writing.*  In  order  to  attain  the  correspond- 
ing advantage— to  impart  to  the  delivery  of  a  written 
discourse,  something  of  the  vivacity  and  interesting  ef- 
fect of  real,  earnest,  speaking,  the  plan  to  be  pursued, 
conformably  with  the  principles  I  have  been  maintain- 
ing, is,  for  the  reader  to  draw  off  his  mind  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  thought  that  he  is  reading,  as  well  as 
from  all  thought  respecting  his  own  utterance ; — to  fix 
his  mind  as  earnestly  as  possible  on  the  matter,  and  to 
strive  to  adopt  as  his  own,  and  as  his  own  at  the  moment 
of  utterance,  every  sentiment  he  delivers ; — and  to  say 
it  to  the  audience,  in  the  manner  which  the  occasion 
and  subject  spontaneously  suggest  to  him  who  has  ab- 
stracted his  mind  both  from  all  consideration  of  himself, 
and  from  the  consideration  that  he  is  reading. 

practice,  or  study  of  any  kind  :  he,  therefore,  who  finds  himself 
improve  bv  practice,  either  in  Argument,  Style,  or  Delivery— or 
who  observes  that  he  speaks  more  fluently  and  better,  on  subjects 
on  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to  speak — or  better  with  premedi- 
tation, than  on  a  sudden,  may  indeed  deceive  his  hearers  by  a  pre 
tence  to  inspiration,  but  can'hardly  deceive  himself. 

*  Accordingly,  it  may  be  remarked,  that,  (contrary  to  what 
might  at  first  sight  be  supposed,)  though  the  preceding  parts,  as 
well  as  the  present,  are  intended  for  general  application,  yet  it  is 
to  the  extemporary  speaker  that  the  rules  laid  down  in  the  former 
part  (supposing  them  correct)  will  be  the  most  peculiarly  useful 
while  the  suggestions  offered  in  this  last,  respecting  Elocution,  are 
more  especially  designed  for  the  use  of  the  reader 


272  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

Most  men         §   2-   The  advantage  of  this  Natural 
speak  well    Manner,  (t.  e.  the  manner  which-  one  natu- 

d^sC°urTe°n  ra^  ^a^s  *nt0  w^°  ^s  rea^!/  speaking,  in 
earnest,  and  with  a  mind  exclusively  intent 
on  what  he  has  to  say,)  may  be  estimated  from  this 
consideration ;  that  there  are  few  who  do  not  speak  so 
as  to  give  effect  to  what  they  are  saying.  Some,  indeed, 
do  this  much  better  than  others : — some  have,  in  ordi- 
nary conversation,  an  indistinct  01  incorrect  pronuncia- 
tion— an  embarrassed  and  hesitating  utterance,  or  a  bad 
choice  of  words :  but  hardly  any  one  fails  to  deliver 
(when  speaking  earnestly)  what  he  does  say,  so  as  to 
convey  the  sense  and  the  force  of  it,  much  more  com- 
pletely than  even  a  good  reader  would,  if  those  same 
words  were  written  down  and  read.  The  latter  might, 
indeed,  be  more  approved;  but  that  is  not  the  present 
question  ;  which  is,  concerning  the  imp?-ession  made  on 
the  hearer's  minds.  It  is  not  the  polish  of  the  blade, 
that  is  to  be  considered,  or  the  grace  with  which  it  is 
brandished,  but  the  keenness  of  the  edge,  and  the  weight 
of  the  stroke. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  wide  difference  between  different 
men,  in  lespect  of  the  degrees  of  impressiveness  with 
wThich,  in  earnest  conversation,  they  deliver  their 
sentiments;  but  it  may  safely  be  laid  down,  that  he 
who  delivers  a  written  composition  with  the  same 
degree  of  spirit  and  energy  with  which  he  would  natu- 
rally speak  on  the  same  subject,  has  attained,  not  indeed, 
necessarily,  absolute  perfection,  but  the  utmost  excel- 
lence attainable  by  him.  Any  attempt  to  outdo  his 
own  Natural  manner,  will  inevitably  lead  to  something 
worse  than  failure. 

On  the  contrary,  it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  the 
elocution  of  most  readers,  even  when  delivering  their 
own  compositions,  is  such  as  to  convey  the  notion,  at 
the  very  best,  not  that  the  preacher  is  expressing  his 
own  real  sentiments,  but  that  he  is  making  known  to 
his  audience  what  is  written  in  the  book  before  him 


Chap.  in.  §  3.]      OF  ELOCUTION.  273 

and,  whether  the  composition  is  professedly  the  reader's 
own,  or  not,  the  usual  mode  of  deliv  jry,  though  grave 
and  decent,  is  so  remote  from  the  energetic  style  of  real 
Natural  Speech,  as  to  furnish,  if  one  may  so  speak,  a 
kind  of  running  comment  on  all  that  is  uttered,  which 
says,  "  I  do  not  mean,  think,  or  feel,  all  this ;  I  only 
mean  to  recite  it  with  propriety  and  decorum:"  and 
what  is  usually  called  fine  Reading,  only  superadds  to 
this,  (as  has  been  above  remarked,)  a  kind  of  admoni- 
tion to  the  hearers,  that  they  ought  to  believe,  to  feel, 
and  to  admire,  what  is  read. 

§  3.  It  is  easy  to  anticipate  an  objection 
which  many  will  urge  against  what  they  SSSnot 
will  call,  a  colloquial  style  of  delivery ;  viz.  to  be  con 
that  it  is  indecorous,  and  unsuitable  to  the  founded 
solemnity  of  a  serious,  and  especially,  of  femtEar 
a  religious  discourse.  The  objection  is 
founded  on  a  mistake.  Those  who  urge  it,  derive  all 
their  notions  of  a  Natural  Delivery  from  two,  irrelevant, 
instances ;  that  of  ordinary  conversation,  the.  usual 
subjects  of  which,  and  consequently  its  usual  tone,  are 
comparatively  ngnt ; — anu,  mat  of  tne  coarse  ana  extra- 
vagant rant  of  vulgar  fanatical  preachers.  But  to 
conclude  that  the  objections  against  either  of  these 
styles,  would  apply  to  the  Natural  delivery  of  a  man 
of  sense  and  taste,  speaking  earnestly,  on  a  serious 
subject,  and  on  a  solemn  occasion — or  that  he  would 
naturally  adopt,  and  is  here  advised  to  adopt,  such  a 
style  as  those  objected  to,  is  no  less  absurd  than,  if  any 
one,  being  recommended  to  walk  in  a  natural  and 
unstudied  manner,  rather  than  in  a  dancing  step,  (to 
employ  Dr.  A.  Smith's  illustration,)  or  a  formal  march, 
should  infer  that  the  natural  gait  of  a  clown  following 
the  plough,  or  of  a  child  in  its  gambols,  were  proposed 
as  models  to  be  imitated  in  walking  across  a  room 
Should  any  one,  on  being  told  that  both  tragic-acting 
and  comic-acting  ought  to  be  a  natural  representation 
of  man,  interpret  this  to  mean,  that  Tragedy  ought  to 


274  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  I V 

be  performed  exactly  like  Comedy,  he  would  be  thought 
very  absurd,  if  he  were  supposed  to  be  speaking  seri- 
ously. It  is  evident,  that  what  is  natural  in  one  case, 
or  for  one  person,  may  be,  in  a  diffeient  one,  very 
unnatural.  It  would  not  be  by  any  means  natural  to 
an  educated  and  sober-minded  man,  to  speak  like  an 
illiterate  enthusiast;  or  to  discourse  on  the  most 
important  matters  in  the  tone  of  familiar  conversation 
respecting  the  trifling  occurrences  of  the  day.  Any  one 
who  does  but  notice  the  style  in  which  a  man  of  ability, 
and  of  good  choice  of  words,  and  utterance,  delivers 
his  sentiments  in  private,  when  he  is,  for  instance, 
earnestly  and  seriously  admonishing  a  friend — defend- 
ing the  truths  of  religion — or  speaking  on  any  other 
grave  subject  on  which  he  is  intent,  may  easily  observe 
how  different  his  tone  is  from  that  of  light  and  familiar 
conversation — how  far  from  deficient  in  the  decent 
seriousness  which  befits  the  case.  Even  a  stranger 
to  the  language  might  guess  that  he  was  not  engaged 
on  any  frivolous  topic.  And  when  an  opportunity 
occurs  of  observing  how  he  delivers  a  written  discourse, 
of  his  own  composition,  on  perhaps  the  very  same,  or  a 
similar  subject,  one  may  generally  perceive  how  com- 
paratively stiff,  languid,  and  unimpressive  is  the  effect. 
Natural  ^  mav  De  sa'd>  indeed,  that  a  sermon 

manner  is  should  not  be  delivered  before  a  congrega- 
^cf  om,m<?'     tion  assembled  in  a  place  of  worship,  in  the 

dated  to  the  ,  r  ,  ,  i        • 

place,  sub-  same  style  as  one  would  employ  m  convers- 
ject  and  oc-  ing  across  a  table,  with  equal  seriousness  on 
the  same  subject.  This  is  undoubtedly  true : 
and  it  is  evident  that  it  has  been  implied  in  what  has 
here  been  said ;  the  Natural-manner  having  been  de- 
scribed as  accommodated,  not  only  to  the  subject,  but  to 
the  place,  occasion,  and  all  other  circumstances ;  so  that 
he  who  should  preach  exactly  as  if  he  were  speaking 
in  private,  though  with  the  utmost  earnestness,  on  the 
same  subject,  would,  so  far,  be  departing  from  the 
genuine  Natural-manner.     But  it  maybe  safely  assert- 


Uiap.  III.  §  4.]       OF  ELOCUTION.  276 

ed,  that  even  this  would  be  far  the  less  fault  of  the  two. 
He  who  appears  unmindful,  indeed,  of  the  place  and 
occasion,  but  deeply  impressed  with  the  subject,  and 
utterly  forgetful  of  himself,  would  produce  a  much 
stronger  effect  than  one,  who,  going  into  the  opposite 
extreme,  is,  indeed,  mindful  of  the  place  and  the  occa- 
sion, but  not  fully  occupied  with  the  subject,  (though 
he  may  strive  to  appeal'  so  ;)  being  partly  engaged  in 
thoughts  respecting  his  own  voice.  The  latter  would, 
indeed,  be  the  less  likely  to  incur  censure  ;  but  the  other 
would  produce  the  deeper  impression. 

The  object,  however,  to  be  aimed  at,  (and  it  is  not 
unattainable,)  is  to  avoid  both  faults  ; — to  keep  the  mind 
impressed  both  with  the  matter  spoken,  and  with  all  the 
circumstances  also  of  each  case  ;  so  that  the  voice  may 
spontaneously  accommodate  itself  to  all;  carefully 
avoiding  all  studied  modulations,  and,  in  short,  all 
thoughts  of  self ;  which,  in  proportion  as  they  intrude, 
will  not  fail  to  diminish  the  effect. 

§  4.  It  must  be  admitted,  indeed,  that  the 
different  kinds  of  Natural  delivery  of  any  delivery" 
one  individual  on  different  subjects  and  oc-  one  species 
casions,  various  as  they  are,  do  yet  bear  a  °^the  natu" 
much  greater  resemblance  to  each  other,  than 
any  of  them  does  to  the  Artificial-style  usually  employ- 
ed in  reading;  a  proof  of  which  is,  that  a  person  fami- 
liarly acquainted  with  the  speaker,  will  seldom  fail  to 
recognise  his  voice,  amidst  all  the  variations  of  it,  when 
he  is  speaking  naturally  and  earnestly ;  though  it  will 
often  happen  that,  if  he  have  never  before  heard  him 
read,  he  will  be  at  a  loss,  when  he  happens  accidentally 
to  hear  without  seeing  him,  to  know  who  it  is  that  is 
reading ;  so  widely  does  the  artificial  cadence  and  in- 
tonation differ  in  many  points  from  the  natural.  And 
a  consequence  of  this  is,  that  the  Natural-manner,  how- 
ever perfect — however  exactly  accommodated  to  the 
subject,  place,  and  occasion — will,  even  when  these  are 
the  most  solemn,  in  some  degree  remind  tfce  hearers  of 


276  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV. 

the  tone  of  conversation.  Amidst  all  the  differences 
that  will  exist,  this  one  point  of  resemblance — that  of 
the  delivery  being  unforced  and  unstudied — will  bo 
likely,  in  some  degree,  to  strike  them.  Those  who  are 
good  judges  will  perceive  at  once,  and  the  rest,  aftei 
being  a  little  accustomed  to  the  Natural-manner,  thaf 
there  is  not  necessarily  any  thing  irreverent  or  indeco- 
rous in  it ;  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  conveys  the  idea 
of  the  speaker's  being  deeply  impressed  with  that  which 
is  his  proper  business.  But,  for  a  time,  many  will  be 
disposed  to  find  fault  with  such  a  kind  of  elocution ; 
and,  in  particular,  to  complain  of  its  indicating  a  want 
of  respect  for  the  audience.  Yet  even  while  this  dis- 
advantage continues,  a  preacher  of  this  kind  may  be 
assured  that  the  doctrine  he  delivers  is  much  more  for- 
cibly impressed,  even  on  those  who  censure  his  style 
of  delivering  it,  than  it  could  be  in  the  other  way 

A  discourse  delivered  in  this  style  has  been  known 
to  elicit  the  remark,  from  one  of  the  lower  orders,  who 
had  never  been  accustomed  to  any  thing  of  the  kind, 
that  "  it  was  an  excellent  sermon,  and  it  was  great  pity 
it  had  not  been  preached:"  a  censure  which  ought  to 
have  been  very  satisfactory  to  the  preacher :  had  he 
employed  a  pompous  spout,  or  modulated  whine,  it  is 
probable  such  an  auditor  would  have  admired  his  preach- 
ing, but  would  have  known  and  thought  little  or  noth- 
ing about  the  matter  of  what  was  taught. 

Which  of  the  two  objects  ought  to  be  preferred  by  a 
Christian  Minister,  on  Christian  principles,  is  a  question, 
not  indeed  hard  to  decide,  but  foreign  to  the  present  dis- 
cussion. It  is  important,  however,  to  remark,  that  an 
Orator  is  bound,  as  such,  not  merely  on  moral,  but  (if 
such  an  expression  may  be  used)  on  rhetorical  princi- 
ples, to  be  mainly,  and  indeed  exclusively,  intent  on 
carrying  his  point;  not,  on  gaining  approbation,  or 
even  avoiding  censure,  except  with  a  view  to  that  point. 
He  should,  as  it  were,  adop".  as  a  motto,  the  reply  of 
Themistocles  to  the  Spartan  commander,  Eurybiades» 


C7HAP.  III.  §  S.J      OF  ELOCUTION.  277 

who  lifted  his  staff  to  chastise  the  earnestness  with 
which  his  own  opinion  was  controverted  ;  "  Strike,  but 
hear  me." 

I  would  not,  indeed,  undertake  to  maintain  (like 
Quinctilian)  that  no  one  can  be  an  Orator  who  is  not  a 
virtuous  man ;  but  there  certainly  is  a  kind  of  moral 
excellence  implied  in  that  renunciation  of  all  effort  after 
display — in  that  forgetfulness  of  self — which  is  abso- 
lutely necessary,  both  in  the  manner  of  writing,  and  in 
the  delivery,  to  give  the  full  force  to  what  is  said. 

§  5.  Besides  the  inconvenience  just  mentioned — the 
censure,  which  the  proposed  style  of  elocution  will  be 
liable  to,  from  perhaps  the  majority  of  hearers,  till 
they  shall  have  become  somewhat  accustomed  to  it — 
this  circumstance  also  ought  to  be  mentioned,  as  what 
many,  perhaps,  would  reckon  (or  at  least  feel)  to  be 
one  of  the  disadvantages  of  it;  that,  after  Natural 
all,  even  when  no  disapprobation  is  incurred,  manner  not 
no  praise  will  be  bestowed,  (except  by  ob-  Praised- 
servant  critics,)  on  a  truly  Natural  delivery ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  more  perfect  it  is,  the  more  will  it  with- 
draw, from  itself,  to  the  arguments  and  sentiments  de- 
livered, the  attention  of  all  but  those  who  are  studiously 
directing  their  view  to  the  mode  of  utterance,  with  a 
design  to  criticise  or  to  learn.  The  credit,  on  the  contra- 
ry, of  having  a  very  fine  elocution,  is  to  be  obtained  at 
the  expense  of  a  very  moderate  share  of  pains ;  though 
at  the  expense  also,  inevitably,  of  much  of  the  force  of 
what  is  said. 

§  6.  One  inconvenience,  which  will  at  first 
be  experienced  by  a  person  who,  after  hav-  ness  feiton 
ing  been  long  accustomed  to  the  Artificial  first  adop- 
delivery,  begins  to  adopt  the  Natural,  is,  that  NnfuJ.^ 
he  will  be  likely  suddenly  to  feel  an  embar-  manner, 
rassed  bashful,  and,  as  it  is  frequently  called, 
nervous  sensation,  to  which  he  had  before  been  com- 
paratively a  stranger.     He  will  find  himself  in  a  new 
situation — standing  before  his  audience  in  a  different 


278  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

character — stripped,  as  it  were,  of  the  sheltering  veil  of 
a  conventional  and  artificial  delivery ; — in  short,  deliv- 
ering to  them  his  thoughts,  as  one  man  speaking  to 
other  men  ;  not,  as  before,  merely  reading  in  public 
And  he  will  feel  that  he  attracts  a  much  greater  share 
of  their  attention,  not  only  by  the  novelty  of  a  manner 
to  which  most  congregations  are  little  accustomed,  but 
also,  (even  supposing  them  to  have  been  accustomed  to 
extemporary  discourses,)  from  their  perceiving  them- 
selves to  be  personally  addressed,  and  feeling  that  he  is 
not  merely  reciting  something  before  them,  but  saying 
it  to  them.  The  speaker  and  the  hearers  will  thus  be 
brought  into  a  new  and  closer  relation  to  each  other : 
and  the  increased  interest  thus  excited  in  the  audience, 
will  cause  the  Speaker  to  feel  himself  in  a  different  sit- 
uation— in  one  which  is  a  greater  trial  of  his  confidence, 
and  which  renders  it  more  difficult  than  before  to  with- 
draw his  attention  from  himself.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  observe  that  this  very  change  of  feelings  experienced 
by  the  speaker,  ought  to  convince  him  the  more,  if  the 
causes  of  it  (to  which  I  have  just  alluded)  be  attentively 
considered,  how  much  greater  impression  this  manner 
is  likely  to  produce.  As  he  will  be  likely  to  feel  much 
of  the  bashfulness  which  a  really  extemporary  speaker 
has  to  struggle  against,  so  he  may  produce  much  of  a 
similar  effect. 

After  all,  however,  the  effect  will  never  be  completely 
the  same.  A  composition  delivered  from  writing,  and 
one  actually  extemporaneous,  will  always  produce  feel- 
ings, both  in  the  hearer  and  the  speaker,  considerably 
different ;  even  on  the  supposition  of  their  being  word 
for  word  the  same,  and  delivered  so  exactly  in  the  same 
tone,  that  by  the  ear  alone  no  difference  could  be  de- 
tected :  still  the  audience  will  be  differently  affected  ac- 
cording to  their  knowledge  that  the  words  uttered,  are, 
or  are  not,  written  down  and  before  the  speaker's  eyes 
And  the  consciousness  of  this  will  produce  a  correspond- 
ing effect  on  the  mind  of  "he  speaker.     For  were  this 


Chap.  III.  §  7.]       OF  ELOCUTION.  27$ 

not  so,  any  one  who,  on  any  subject,  can  speak  (as 
many  can)  fluently  and  correctly  in  private  conversa- 
tion, would  rind  no  greater  difficulty  in  saying  the  same 
things  before  a  large  congregation,  than  in  reading  to 
them  a  written  discourse. 

§  7.  And  here  it  may  be  worth  while  inquiry 
briefly  to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  that  re-  respecting 
markable  phenomenon,  as  it  may  justly  be  the  bashful 
accounted,  that  a  person  who  is  able  with  fa-  addressing 
cility  to  express  his  sentiments  in  private  to  a  large  au- 
a  friend,  in  such  language,  and  in  such  a  dience- 
manner,  as  would  be  perfectly  suitable  to  a  certain  au- 
dience, yet  finds  it  extremely  difficult  to  address  to  that 
audience  the  very  same  words,  in  the  same  manner ; 
and  is,  in  many  instances,  either  completely  struck 
dumb,  or  greatly  embarrassed,  when  he  attempts  it. 
Most  persons  are  so  familiar  with  the  fact,  as  hardly 
to  have  ever  considered  that  it  requires  explanation :  but 
attentive  consideration  shows  it  to  be  a  very  curious,  as 
well  as  important  one ;  and  of  which  no  explanation 
as  far  as  I  know,  has  been  attempted.  It  cannot  be  from 
any  superior  deference  which  the  speaker  thinks  it  right 
to  feel  for  the  judgment  of  the  hearers  ;  for  it  will  often 
happen  that  the  single  friend,  to  whom  he  is  able  to  speak 
fluently,  shall  be  one  whose  good  opinion  he  more  val- 
ues, and  to  whose  wisdom  he  is  more  disposed  to  look 
up,  than  of  all  the  others  together.  The  speaker  may 
even  feel  that  he  himself  has  a  decided  and  acknowledged 
superiority  over  every  one  of  the  audience  ;  and  that  he 
should  not  be  the  least  abashed  in  addressing  any  two  oi 
three  of  them,  separately :  yet  still  all  of  them,  collec- 
tively, will  often  inspire  him  with  a  kind  of  dread. 

Closely  allied  in  its  causes  with  the  phe-  rf  . 

nomenon   I  am   considering,  is  that  other  excitement 
curious  fact,  that  the  very  same  sentiments,  produced 
expressed  in  the  same  manner,  will  often  audience, 
have  a  far  more  powerful  effect  on  a  large 
audience,  than  they  would  have  on  any  one  or  two  W 


280  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pakt  IV. 

ihese  very  persons  separately.  That  is  in  a  great  degree 
true  of  all  men,  which  was  said  of  the  Athenians,  that 
they  were  like  sheep,  of  which  a  flock  is  more  easity 
driven  than  a  single  one. 

Different  Another   remarkable   circumstance,   con- 

language  nected  with  the  foregoing,  is  the  difference  in 
employed  reSpect  of  the  style  which  is  suitable,  respect- 
to  the  num-  ively  in  addressing  a  multitude,  and  two  or 
ber  ad-  three  even  of  the  same  persons.  A  much 
resse  .  holder,  as  well  as  less  accurate,  kind  of  lan- 
guage is  both  allowable  and  advisable,  in  speaking  to  a 
considerable  number ;  as  Aristotle  has  remarked,"*  in 
speaking  of  the  Graphic  and  Agonistic  styles — the 
former  suited  to  the  closet,  the  latter,  to  public  speak- 
ing before  a  large  assembly.  And  he  ingeniously  com- 
pares them  to  the  different  styles  of  painting- ;  the  greater 
the  crowd,  he  says,  the  more  distant  is  the  view ;  so 
that  in  scene-painting,  for  instance,  coarser  and  boldei 
touches  are  required,  and  the  nice  finish,  which  would 
delight  a  close  spectator,  would  be  lost.  He  does  not, 
however,  account  for  the  phenomena  in  question. 

y  8.  The  solution  01  tnem  wiii  De  lounu 
nome^sT  DV  attention  to  a  very  curious  and  complex 
referred  to  play  of  sympathies  which  takes  place  in  a 
parti*  S>  m*  k*r£e  assembly  ;  and,  (within  certain  limits,) 
the  more,  in  proportion  to  its  numbers. 
First,  it  is  to  he  observed  that  we  are  disposed  to 
sympathize  with  any  emotion  which  we  believe  to  ex- 
ist in  the  mind  of  any  one  present ;  and  hence,  if  we 
are  at  the  same  time  otherwise  disposed  to  feel  that 
emotion,  such  disposition  is  in  consequence  heightened. 
In  the  next  place,  we  not  only  ourselves  feel  this  ten- 
dency, but  we  are  sensible  that  others  do  the  same 
and  thus,  we  sympathize  not  only  with  the  other  emo 
tions  of  the  rest,  but  also,  with  their  sympathy  towards 
us.  Any  emotion  accordingly  which  we  feel,  is  still 
further  heightened  by  the  knowledge  that  there  are 

*  Rhetoric,  book  iii 


Chap.  Ill  §  8.]       OF  ELOCUTION  281 

others  present  who  not  onJy  feel  the  same,  but  feel  it 
the  more  strongly  in  consequence  of  their  sympathy 
with  ourselves.  Lastly,  we  are  sensible  that  those 
around  us  sympathize  not  only  with  ourselves,  but  with 
each  other  also ;  and  as  we  enter  into  this  heightened 
feeling  of  theirs  likewise,  the  stimulus  to  our  own  minds 
is  thereby  still  further  increased. 

The  case  of  the  Ludicrous  affords  the  most  niustration 
obvious  illustration  of  these  principles,  from  from  the 
the  circumstance  that  the  effects  produced  £^s|  °f  the 
are  so  open  and  palpable.  If  any  thing  of 
this  nature  occurs,  you  are  disposed,  by  the  character 
of  the  thing  itself,  to  laugh  :  but  much  more  if  any  one 
else  is  known  to  be  present  whom  you  think  likely 
to  be  diverted  with  it ;  even  though  that  other  should 
not  know  of  you  presence  ;  but  much  more  still,  if  he 
does  know  it;  because  you  are  then  aware  that  sym- 
pathy with  your  emotion  heightens  his:  and  most  of 
all  will  the  disposition  to  laugh  be  increased,  if  many 
are  present ;  because  each  is  then  aware  that  they  all 
sympathize  with  e~ach  other,  as  well  as  with  himself. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  menl/on  the  exact  correspond- 
ence of  the  faej,  with  the  above  explanation-  So  im- 
portant, in  this  case,  is  the  operation  ot  the  causes  here 
noticed,  that  hardly  any  one  ever  laughs  when  he  is 
quite  alone  :  or  if  he  does,  he  will  find  on  consideration 
that  it  is  from  a  conception  of  some  compamon  whom 
he  thinks  likely  to  have  been  amused,  had  he  been 
present,  and  to  whom  he  thinKs  of  describing-,  or  re- 
peating, what  had  diverted  himself  Indeed,  in  other 
cases,  as  well  as  the  one  just  insianced,  almost  every 
one  is  aware  of  the  infectious  nature  of  any  emotion 
excited  in  a  large  assembly.  It  may  be  compared  to  the 
increase  of  sound  by  a  number  p'  echoes,  or  of  light, 
by  a  number  of  mirrors ;  or  to  the  blaze  of  a  heap  ot 
firebrands,  each  of  which  would  speedily  have  gone  out 
if  kindled  separately,  but  which,  wheiuhrown  together, 
help  to  kindle  each  other. 
22 


282  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV. 

The  application  of  what  has  been  said,  to  the  case 
before  us,  is  sufficiently  obvious.  In  addressing  a  large 
assembly,  you  know  that  each  of  them  sympathizes 
both  with  your  own  anxiety  to  acquit  yourself  well, 
and  also  with  the  same  feeling  in  the  minds  of  the  rest. 
You  know  also,  that  every  slip  you  may  be  guilty  of, 
that  may  tend  to  excite  ridicule,  pity,  disgust,  &c.  makes 
the  stronger  impression  on  each  of  the  hearers,  from 
their  mutual  sympathy,  and  their  consciousness  of  it. 
This  augments  your  anxiety.  Next,  you  know  that 
each  hearer,  putting  himself  mentally,  in  the  speaker's 
place,*  sympathizes  with  this  augmented  anxiety : 
which  is  by  this  thought  increased  still  further.  And 
if  you  become  at  all  embarrassed,  the  knowledge  that 
there  are  so  many  to  sympathize,  not  only  with  that 
embarrassment,  but  also  with  each  other's  feelings  on  the 
perception  of  it,  heightens  your  confusion  to  the  utmost. 

The  same  causes  will  account  for  a  skilful  orator's 
being  able  to  rouse  so  much  more  easily,  and  more 
powerfully  the  passions  of  a  multitude ;  they  inflame 
each  other  by  mutual  sympathy,  and  mutual  conscious- 
ness of  it.  And  hence  it  is  that  a  bolder  kind  of 
language  is  suitable  to  such  an  audience;  a  passage 
which,  in  the  closet,  might,  just  at  the  first  glance,  tend 
to  excite  awe,  compassion,  indignation,  or  any  other 
such  emotion,  but  which  would,  on  a  moment's  cool 
reflection,  appear  extravagant,  may  be  very  suitable 
for  the  Agonistic  style;  because,  before  that  moment's 
reflection  could  take  place  in  each  hearer's  mind,  he 
would  be  aware  that  every  one  around  him  sympathized 
in  that  first  emotion  which  would  thus  become  so  much 
neightened  as  to  preclude,  in  a  great  degree,  the  ingress 
of  any  counteracting  sentiment. 

If  one  could  suppose  such  a  case  as  that  of  a  speaker, 
(himself  aware  of  the  circumstance,)  addressing  a  multi- 

*  Hencf  it  is  that  shy  persons  are,  as  is  matter  of  common  remark, 
the  more  distressed  by  this  infirmity  when  in  company  with  thw» 
who  are  subject  to  the  same. 


Chap.  Ill  Q  10.]     OF  ELOCUTION.  284 

tude,  each  of  whom  believed  himself  to  be  the  sole 
hearer,  it  is  probable  that  little  or  no  embarrassment 
would  be  felt,  and    a  much  more   sober,  calm,  and 
finished  style  of  language  would  be  adopted. 
6  9.    The  impossibility  of  bringing  the  n 

j   v  c  Kj.  J      -a  i  t   7      Sympathy 

delivery  of  a  written  composition  completely  With  the  ex. 
to  a  level  with  a  real  extemporary  speaking,  temporane- 
( though,  as  has  been  said,  it  may  approach  Jj^J681"* 
indefinitely  near  to  such  an  effect,)  is  ex-  mounting 
plained  on  the  same  principle.  Besides  that  his  diffi- 
the  audience  are  more  sure  that  the  thoughts 
they  hear  expressed,  are  the  genuine  emanation  of  the 
speaker's  mind  at  the  moment,*  their  attention  and 
interest  are  the  more  excited  by  their  sympathy  with 
one  whom  they  perceive  to  be  carried  forward  solely  by 
his  own  unaided  and  unremitted  efforts,  without  having 
any  book  to  refer  to ;  they  view  him  as  a  swimmer 
supported  by  his  own  constant  exertions ;  and  in  every 
such  case,  if  the  feat  be  well  accomplished,  the  sur- 
mounting of  the  difficulty  affords  great  gratification ; 
especially  to  those  who  are  conscious  that  they  could 
not  do  the  same.  And  one  proof,  that  part  of  the 
pleasure  conveyed  does  arise  from  this  source,  is,  that 
as  the  spectators  of  an  exhibition  of  supposed  unusual 
skill  in  swimming,  would  instantly  withdraw  most  of 
their  interest  and  admiration,  if  they  perceived  that  the 
performer  was  supported  by  corks,  or  the  like ;  so  would 
the  feelings  alter  of  the  hearers  of  a  supposed  extempo- 
raneous discourse,  as  soon  as  they  should  perceive,  or 
even  suspect,  that  the  orator  had  it  written  down 
Defore  him 

§  10.  The  way  in  which  the  respective 
inconveniences  of  both  kinds  of  discourses     proposed, 
may  best  be  avoided,  is  evident  from  what 

*  It  is  not  meant  by  this  that  an  extemporary  speaker  necessarily 
composes  (in  respect  of  his  matter)  extempore,  or  that  he  professes 
to  do  so  •  but  only,  that  if  he  frames  each  sentence  at  the  momeut, 
he  must,  at  that  moment,  have  the  sentiment  which  is  expressed 
in  it  strongly  present  to  his  mind. 


2S4  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

has  been  already  said.  Let  both  the  extemporary 
Speaker,  and  the  Reader  of  his  own  compositions,  study 
to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  all  thoughts  of  self,  earnestly 
fixing  3he  mind  on  the  matter  of  what  is  delivered ;  and 
the  one  will  feel  the  less  of  that  embarrassment  which 
arises  from  the  thought  of  what  opinion  the  hearers  will 
form  of  him ;  while  the  other  will  appear  to  be  speaking, 
because  he  actually  will  be  speaking,  the  sentiments,  nol 
indeed  wiu>h  at  that  time  first  arise  in  his  own  mind,  but 
which  are  then  really  present  to,  and  occupy  his  mind 


Chap.  IV. — Practical  deductions  from  the  foregoing 
views. 

Original  §  1-  One  of  the  consequences  of  the  adop- 

Composi-  tion  of  the  mode  of  elocution  here  recom- 
bTeUtoS"he  mended,  is,  that  he  who  endeavours  to  em- 
natural  de-  ploy  it  will  find  a  growing  reluctance  to  the 
livery  delivery,  as  his  own,  of  any  but  his  own 

compositions.  Conclusions,  indeed,  and  arguments  he 
may  freely  borrow  ;  but  he  will  be  led  to  compose  his 
own  discourses,  from  finding  that  he  cannot  deliver 
those  of  another  to  his  own  satisfaction,  without  labo- 
riously studying  them,  as  an  actor  does  his  part,  so  as 
to  make  them,  in  some  measure,  his  own.  And  with 
this  view,  he  will  generally  find  it  advisable  to  intro- 
duce many  alterations  in  the  expression,  not  with  any 
thought  of  improving  the  style,  absolutely,  but  only  with 
a  view  to  his  own  delivery  And  indeed,  even  his  own 
previous  compositions,  he  will  be  led  to  alter,  almost  as 
much,  in  point  of  expression,  in  order  to  accommodate 
them  to  the  Natural  manner  of  delivery.  Much  that 
would  please  in  the  closet — much  of  the  Graphic  style 
described  by  Aristotle,  will  be  laid  aside  for  the  Agon- 
istic ;—- for  a  style  somewhat  more  blunt  and  homely — ■ 
more  simple,  and,  apparently  unstudied  in  its  structure, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  more  daringly  energetic.     And 


«iiap.  IV.  §  l.]     OF  ELOCUTION.  285 

If  again  he  is  desirous  of  fitting  his  discourses  for  the 
press,  he  will  find  it  expedient  to  reverse  this  process, 
and  alter  the  style  afresh.  In  many  instances  accord- 
ingly, the  perusal  of  a  manuscript  sermon  would  afford, 
from  the  observation  of  its  style,  a  tolerably  good  ground 
of  conjecture  as  to  the  author's  customary  elocution. 
For  instance,  a  rapid  elocution  suits  the  more  full,  and 
a  slow  one,  the  more  concise  style ;  and  great  varia- 
tions in  the  degree  of  rapidity  of  delivery  are  suited  to 
the  corresponding  variations  in  the  style. 

A  mere  sermon-reader,  on  the  contrary,  will  avoid 
this  inconvenience,  and  this  labour ;  he  will  be  able  to 
deliver  another's  discourses  nearly  as  well  as  his  own; 
and  may  send  his  own  to  the  press,  without  the  neces- 
sity of  any  great  preparation :  but  he  will  purchase 
these  advantages  at  the  expense  of  more  than  half  the 
force  which  might  have  been  given  to  the  sentiments 
uttered.  And  he  will  have  no  right  to  complain  that 
his  discourses,  though  replete  perhaps  with  good  sense, 
learning,  and  eloquence,  are  received  with  languid  apa- 
thy, or  that  many  are  seduced  from  their  attendance  on 
his  teaching,  by  the  vapid  rant  of  an  illiterate  fanatic. 
Much  of  these  evils  must  indeed  be  expected,  after  all, 
to  remain  :  but  he  does  not  give  himself  a  fair  chance 
for  diminishing  them,  unless  he  does  justice  to  his  own 
arguments,  instructions,  and  exhortations,  by  speaking 
them,  in  the  only  effectual  way,  to  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers ;  that  is,  as  uttered  naturally  from  his  own. 

1  have  seen,  somewhere,  an  anecdote  of  some  cele- 
brated actor  being  asked  by  a  divine,  "  How  is  it  that 
people  listen  with  so  much  emotion  to  what  you  say, 
which  they  know  to  be  all  fictitious,  besides  that  it 
would  be  no  concern  of  their's,  even  if  true ;  while  they 
hear  with  comparative  apathy,  from  us,  truths,  the  most 
Bublime,  and  the  most  important  to  them?"  The  an- 
swer was,  "  Because  we  deliver  fiction  like  truth,  and 
you  deliver  truth  like  fiction." 

The  principles  here  laid  down  may  help  to  explain  a 


286  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.      Part  IV 

remarkable  fact  which  is  usually  attributed 
Effects  of  t0  0ther  than  the  true  causes.  The  power- 
counted  for.  f ul  effects  often  produced  by  some  fanatical 

preachers,  not  superior  in  pious  and  sincere 
zeal,  and  inferior  in  learning,  in  good  sense,  and  in  taste, 
to  men  who  are  listened  to  with  comparative  apathy, 
are  frequently  considered  as  a  proof  of  superior  elo- 
quence; though  an  eloquence  tarnished  by  barbarism, 
and  extravagant  mannerism.  Now  may  not  such  effects 
result,  not  from  any  superior  powers  in  the  preacher, 
but  merely  from  the  intrinsic  beauty  and  sublimity,  and 
the  measureless  importance  of  the  subject  ?  But  why 
then,  it  may  be  replied,  does  not  the  other  preacher, 
whose  subject  is  the  very  same,  produce  the  same  ef- 
fect ?  The  answer  is,  because  he  is  but  half -at  tended 
to.  The  ordinary  measured  cadence  of  reading,  is  not 
only  in  itself  dull,  but  is  what  men  are  familiarly  ac- 
customed to  :  religion  itself  also,  is  a  subject  so  familiar, 
in  a  certein  sense,  (familiar,  that  is.  to  the  ear,)  as  to 
be  trite,  even  to  those  who  know  and  think  little  about 
it.  Let  but  the  attention  be  thoroughly  roused,  and  in- 
tently fixed  on  such  a  stupendous  subject,  and  that  sub- 
ject itself  will  produce  the  most  overpowering  emotion. 
And  not  only  unaffected  earnestness  of  manner,  but 
perhaps,  even  still  more,  any  uncouth  oddity,  and  even 
ridiculous  extravagance,  will,  by  the  stimulus  of  novelty, 
have  the  effect  of  thus  rousing  the  hearers  from  their 
ordinary  lethargy.  So  that  a  preacher  of  little  or  no 
real  eloquence,  will  sometimes,  on  such  a  subject,  pro- 
duce the  effects  of  the  greatest  eloquence,  by  merely 
forcing  the  hearers  (often,  even  by  the  excessively  glar« 
ing  faults  of  his  style  and  delivery)  to  attend,  to  a  sub- 
ject which  no  one  can  really  attend  to  unmoved. 

It  will  not  of  course  be  supposed  that  my  intention 
is  to  recommend  the  adoption  of  extravagant  rant.  The 
good  effects  which  it  undoubtedly  does  sometimes  pro- 
duce, incidentally,  in  some,  is  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  the  mischievous  consequences  to  another. 


Chap.  IV.  §  2.]      OF  ELOCUTION.  287 

§  2.  One  important  practical  maxim  re-  Practice  of 
suiting  from  the  views  here  taken,  is  the  de-  recitation  at 
cided  condemnation  of  all  recitation  of  schools  in- 
speec/ies  by  school -boys  ;  a  practice  so  much  Junous- 
approved  and  recommended  b}  many,  with  a  view  to 
preparing  youths  for  Public  Speaking  in  after  life.  It 
is  to  be  condemned,  however,  (supposing  the  foregoing 
principle  correct,)  not  as  useless  merely,  but  absolutely 
pernicious,  with  a  view  to  that  object.  The  justness, 
indeed,  of  this  opinion  will,  doubtless,  be  disputed ;  but 
its  consistency  with  the  plan  I  have  been  recommending, 
is  almost  too  obvious  to  be  insisted  on.  In  any  one 
who  should  think  a  natural  delivery  desirable,  it  would 
be  an  obvious  absurdity  to  think  of  attaining  it  by  prac- 
tising that  which  is  the  most  completely  artificial.  If 
there  is,  as  is  evident,  much  difficulty  to  be  surmounted, 
even  by  one  who  is  delivering,  on  a  serious  occasion, 
his  own  composition,  before  he  can  completely  succeed 
in  abstracting  his  mind  from  all  thoughts  of  his  own 
voice — of  the  judgment  of  the  audience  on  his  perfor- 
mance, &c.  and  in  fixing  it  on  the  Matter,  Occasion,  and 
Place — on  every  circumstance  which  ought  to  give  the 
character  to  his  elocution — how  much  must  this  diffi- 
culty be  enhanced,  when  neither  the  sentiments  he  is  to 
utter,  nor  the  character  he  is  to  assume,  are  his  own,  or 
even  supposed  to  be  so,  or  anywise  connected  with 
him : — when  neither  the  place,  the  occasion,  nor  the 
audience,  which  are  actually  present,  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  the  substance  of  what  is  said.  It  is  therefore 
almost  inevitable,  that  he  will  studiously  form  to  him- 
self an  artificial  manner  ;*  which  (especially  if  he  suc- 
ceed in  it)  will  probably  cling  to  him  through  life,  even 

*  Some  have  used  the  expression  of  "  a  conscious  manner,"  to 
denote  that  which  results  (either  in  conversation — in  the  ordinary 
actions  of  life — or  in  public  speaking)  from  the  anxious  attention 
which  some  persons  feel  to  the  opinion  the  company  may  form  of 
them  ;  a  eonsciousness  of  being  watched  and  scrutinized  in  every 
word  and  gesture,  together  with  an  extreme  anxiety  for  approba 
tfon.  and  dread  of  censure 


288  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pabt  IV, 

when  he  is  delivering  his  own  compositions  on  real 
occasions.  The  very  best  that  can  be  expected,  is,  that 
he  should  become  an  accomplished  actor — possessing 
the  plastic  power  of  putting  himself,  in  imagination,  so 
completely  into  the  situation  of  him  whom  he  perso- 
nates, and  of  adopting,  for  the  moment,  so  perfectly,  all 
the  sentiments  and  views  of  that  character,  as  to  ex- 
press himself  exactly  as  such  a  person  would  have  done, 
i-n  the  supposed  situation.  Few  are  likely  to  attain 
such  perfection  ;  but  he  who  shall  have  succeeded  in 
accomplishing  this,  will  have  taken  a  most  circuitous 
route  to  his  proposed  object,  if  that  object  be,  not  to 
qualify  himself  for  the  Stage,  but  to  be  able  impressively 
to  deliver  in  public,  on  real,  and  important  occasions, 
his  own  sentiments.  He  will  have  been  carefully  learn- 
ing to  assume,  what,  when  the  real  occasion  occurs, 
need  not  be  assumed,  but  only  expressed.  Nothing, 
surely,  can  be  more  preposterous  than  labouring  to  ac- 
quire the  art  of  pretending  to  be,  what  he  is  not,  and, 
to  feel,  what  he  does  not,  in  order  that  he  may  be 
enabled,  on  a  real  emergency,  to  pretend  to  be  and  to 
feel  just  what  the  occasion  itself  requires  and  suggests : 
in  short  to  personate  himself. 

The  Barmecide,  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  who  amused 
himself  by  setting  down  his  guest  to  an  imaginary  feast, 
and  trying  his  skill  in  imitating,  at  an  empty  table,  the 
actions  of  eating  and  drinking,  did  not  propose  this  as 
an  advisable  mode  of  instructing  him  how  to  perform 
those  actions  in  reality. 

Let  all  studied  recitation  therefore — every  kind  of 
speaking  which  from  its  nature  must  necessarily  be  arti- 
ficial— be  carefully  avoided,  by  one  whose  object  is  to 
attain  the  only  truly  impressive— the  Natural  Delivery. 

It  should  be  observed,  that  the  censure  here  pro- 
nounced on  school-recitations,  and  all  exercises  of  the 
like  nature,  relates,  exclusively,  to  the  effect  produced 
on  the  style  of  Elocution.  With  any  other  objects  that 
may  be  proposed,  the  present  work  has,  obviously,  no 


Chap.  IV.  §  2.]       OF  ELOCUTION.  289 

concern.  Nor  can  it  be  doubted  that  a  familiarity  with 
me  purest  forms  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  may- 
be greatly  promoted  by  committing  to  memory,  and 
studying,  not  only  to  understand,  but  to  recite  with 
propriety,  the  best  orations  and  plays  in  those  languages 
The  familiar  knowledge  too,  and  temporary  adoption, 
of  the  characters  and  sentiments,  for  instance,  of 
Terence's  plays,  can  hardly  fail  to  produce  a  powerful 
effect  on  the  moral  character  If  the  spectators  of  a 
play  which  strongly  interests  them  are  in  any  degree 
disposed  (as  the  Poet  expresses  it)  to  "  live  o'er  each 
6cene,  and  be  what  they  behold,"  much  more  may  this 
be  expected  in  the  actor,  who  studies  to  give  the  fullest 
effect  to  his  performance,  by  fancying  himself,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  person  he  represents.  If  any  one,  there- 
fore, is  more  anxious  for  his  son's  proficiency  in  the 
Latinity,  and  in  the  morality,  of  Terence,  than  for  his 
excellence  in  public  speaking,  he  is  right  in  encourag- 
ing such  exercises.*     But  let  no  one  seek  to  attain  a 

*  To  those  who  do  wish  their  sons  to  imbibe  the  morality  of 
Terence,  I  have,  of  course  nothing  more  t;>  say.  But  if  there  are 
any,  as  I  must  hope  there  are  not  a  few,  who  would  deprecate  such 
a  result,  and  who  yet  patronize  the  practice  in  question,  I  cannot 
but  express  my  unfeigned  wonder  at  their  doing  so.  Can  they 
doubt  that  some  effect  is  likely  to  be  produced  on  a  young  and 
unformed  mind,  forwarder  in  passions  than  in  reason,  by — not 
reading  merely — not  learning  by  heart  merely — but  studying  as  an 
actor,  and  striving  to  deliver  with  effect,  the  part  of  an  accomplished 
debauchee  ?  And  this  too,  such  a  character  as  Terence's  poetical 
justice  never  fails  to  crown  with  success  and  applause.  The  foulest 
obscenity,  such  as  would  create  disgust  in  any  delicate  mind,  would 
probably  be  less  likely  to  corrupt  the  principles,  than  the  more 
gentleman-like  profligacy,  which  is  not  merely  represented,  bnt 
recommended  in  Terence  ;  and  which  approaches  but  too  nearly 
to  what  the  youth  may  find  exemplified  among  the  higher  classes 
in  this  country. 

Will  it  be  answered,  that  because  the  same  boys  are  taught  to 
say  their  Catechism — are  sent  to  Chapel — and  are  given  to  under- 
stand that  they  are  not  to  take  Pamphilus  as  a  model,  a  sufficient 
safeguard  is  thus  provided,  against  the  effects  of  an  assiduous  effort 
to  gain  applause  by  a  lively  and  spirited  representation  of  such  a 
character  ?  I  can  only  reply,  in  the  words  of  Thucydides,  MA- 
KAPISANTE2  'YMJiN  TO  AllEfPOKAKON,  OY  ZHAOYMEN 
TO  A<l>PON. 

I  am  aware  that  I  run  a  risk  of  giving  offence  by  these  remarks  j 
23 


290  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV. 

natural,  simple,  and  forcible  Elocution,  by  a  practice 
which,  the  more  he  applies  to  it,  will  carry  him  still  the 
farther  from  the  object  he  aims  at. 

What  has  been  said,  may  perhaps  be  considered  by 
some  as  applicable  only  in  the  case  where  the  design  is 
merely  to  qualify  a  man  for  extemporaneous  speaking  ; 
— not  for  delivering  a  written  discourse  with  the  effect 
of  one  that  is  actually  extemporaneous.  For  it  may  be 
urged,  that  he  who  attempts  this,  must  be,  to  a  certain 
extent,  an  Actor :  he  may,  indeed,  really  think,  and 
strongly  feel,  at  the  moment,  all  that  he  is  saying ;  but 
though,  thus  far,  no  disguise  is  needed,  he  cannot, 
without  a  distinct  effort,  deliver  what  he  is,  in  fact, 
reading,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  not  reading,  but  is 
framing  each  sentence  as  he  delivers  it :  and  to  learn  to 
do  this,  it  may  be  said,  practice  is  requisite  ;  not  such 
practice  indeed  as  that  of  ordinary  school-recitations, 
which  has  a  directly  contrary  tendency ;  but  such  as 
might  be  adopted,  on  the  principles  above  laid  down. 
And  it  must  be  admitted,  (indeed  the  remark  has  been 
frequently  made  in  the  foregoing  pages,)  that  the  task 
of  him  who  delivers  a  written  discourse,  is  very  different 
from  that  of  the  truly  extemporary  speaker,  supposing 
the  object  be  to  produce  at  all  a  similar  effect.  For,  as 
I  have  formerly  observed,  what  has  been  here  called 
the  Natural  Delivery,  is  that  which  is  natural  to  the 
real  Speaker  alone ;  and  is  by  no  means  what  will  spon- 

but  a  sense  of  duty  forbids  their  suppression.  If  the  practice  is 
capable  of  vindication,  let  it  receive  one  :  if  not,  let  it  be  abolished. 

It  is  now  (1S41)  a  good  many  years  since  this  remonstrance  was 
first  published  ;  during  which  interval  the  work  has  gone  through 
several  editions.  I  cannot  but  suppose,  therefore,  that  some  refu- 
tation of  my  reasoning  would,  before  now,  have  been  at  least  at- 
tempted, (which  as  far  as  I  know,  no  one  ever  did  attempt)  were 
it  not  felt  and  practically  acknowledged  by  the  parties  concerned 
to  be  unanswerable. 

Let  the  experiment  be  tried,  of  placing  in  the  hands  of  the  Moth- 
ers of  the  boys,  when  they  come  to  witness  the  exhibition,  a  close 
translation  of  the  play  their  sons  are  acting.  I  will  be  satisfied  to 
abide  by  the  decision  of  the  right-minded  and  judicious  among 
them. 


Chap  IV.  §  2.]        OF  ELOCUTION  29  J 

fcaneously  suggest  itself  to  one  who  has  (even  his  own) 
written  words  before  him.  To  attain  the  delivery  I 
have  been  recommending,  he  must  make  a  strong  and 
continual  effort  so  to  withdraw  his  mind,  not  only  from 
studied  modulation  of  voice,  but  from  the  knowledge 
that  he  is  reading — and  so  to  absorb  himself,  as  it  were, 
not  only  in  the  general  sentiments,  but  in  each  separate 
expression,  as  to  make  it  thoroughly  his  own  at  the 
moment  of  utterance.  And  I  am  far  from  supposing 
that  in  doing  this  he  will  not  improve  by  practice ; 
indeed  1  have  all  long  implied,  that  np  one  can  expect 
at  once  to  attain  perfection  in  it.  But  whether  any 
such  system  of  recitation  as  would  afford  beneficial 
practice  could  be  adopted  at  schools,  1  am  more  doubtful. 
Supposing  the  established  mode  of  spouting  to  be  totally 
exploded,  and  every  effort  used  to  make  a  boy  deliver  a 
Speech  of  Caesaf,  for  instance,  or  Lear,  in  the  natural 
manner,  i.  e.  according  to  the  Masters'  view  of  what  is 
natural — still,  the  learner  himself  will  be  reciting  in  a 
manner,  to  him,  wholly  artificial ;  not  merely  because 
he  is  reading,  or  repeating  from  memory,  what  he  is 
endeavouring  to  utter  as  if  extempore ; — nor  again, 
merely  because  the  composition  is  another's,  and  the 
circumstances  fictitious ;  but  because  the  composition, 
the  situation,  and  the  circumstances  could  not  have  been 
his  own.  A  School-boy  has  no  natural  way  of  his  own 
to  express  himself  on  the  topics  on  which  he  is  made 
to  declaim ;  because  as  yet  these  topics  form  no  part  of 
the  furniture  of  his  mind.  And  thus  the  object  pro- 
posed, viz.  to  qualify  him  for  delivering  well,  on  real 
occasions,  his  own,  or  such  as  his  own,  written  compe- 
titions, will  have  been  defeated ;  and  we  shall  have 
Anticipated,  and  corrupted,  by  a  studied  elocution,  what 
would  have  been,  in  after-life,  his  own  natural  mode  of 
expressing  himself  on  such  occasions. 

However  serviceable  practice  may  be,  there  is  none, 
I  think,  that  will  not  do  more  harm  than  good,  except 
the  practice  of  reciting,  either  on  real  occasions,  or  on 


292  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Part  IV 

such  as  one  can  fully  conceive  and  enter  into,  expres- 
sions either  actually  his  own,  or  at  least  such  as  he 
would  naturally  have  uttered  on  the  occasion.  Should 
the  School-boy  be  limited  to  the  recitation  of  composi- 
tions of  his  own,  or  of  a  fellow- student,  and  that  too, 
compositions  not  written  as  a  task  on  a  given  subject, 
(on  such  subjects  at  least  as  are  usually  set  for  exer- 
cises,*) but  on  some  real  occasion  interesting  to  a 
youthful  mind,  (a  narrative  e.  g.  of  some  recent  occur- 
rence, or  the  like,)  a  system  of  practice  might  perhaps 
be  adopted  which  would  prove  beneficial. 

Such  exercises  as  these,  however,  would  make  but  a 
sorry  display,  in  comparison  of  the  customary  decla- 
mations. The  "  pomp  and  circumstance  "  of  annual 
public  recitations  has  much  that  is  attractive  to  Masters, 
Parents,  and  Scholars ;  and  it  is  easily  believed,  by 
those  who  wish  to  believe  it,  that  for  a  boy  who  is 
destined  hereafter  to  speak  in  public,  the  practice  of 
making  public  speeches,  and  of  taking  great  pains  to 
deliver  them  well,  must  be  a  very  beneficial  exercise. 
Natural  de-  §  3*  The  ^ast  circumstance  to  be  noticed 
livery  more  among  the  results  of  the  mode  of  delivery 
easily  recommended,  is,  that  tbe  speaker  will  find 

it  much  easier,  in  this  Natural  manner,  to 
make  himself  heard :  he  will  be  heard,  that  is,  much 
more  distinctly  at  a  greater  distance — and  with  far  less 
exertion  and  fatigue  to  himself.  This  is  the  more 
necessary  to  be  mentioned,  because  it  is  a  common,  if 
not  prevailing  opinion,  that  the  reverse  of  this  is  the 
fact.  There  are  not  a  few  who  assign  as  a  reason  for 
their  adoption  of  a  certain  unnatural  tone,  and  measured 
cadence,  that  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  be  heard  by  a 
large  congregation.  But  though  such  an  artificial  voice 
and  utterance  will  often  appear  to  produce  a  louder 
sound,  (which  is  the  circumstance  that  probably  deceives 
such  persons,)  yet  a  natural  voice  and  delivery,  provided 
if  be  clear,  though  it  be  less  laboured,  and  may  even 

•  See  Introd.  ^  5. 


Chap.  IV.  $  4.]        OF  ELOCUTION.  293 

Beem  low  to  those  who  are  near  at  hand,  will  be  dis- 
tinctly heard  at  a  much  greater  distance.  The  only 
decisive  proof  of  this  must  be  sought  in  experience ; 
which  will  not  fail  to  con\ince  of  the  truth  of  it  any 
one  who  will  fairly  make  the  trial. 

The  requisite  degree  of  loudness  will  be  best  obtain- 
ed, conformably  with  the  principles  here  inculcated,  not 
by  thinking  about  the  voice,  but  by  looking  at  the  most 
distant  of  the  hearers,  and  addressing  one's  self  especi- 
ally to  him.  The  voice  rises  spontaneously,  when  we 
are  speaking  to  a  person  who  is  not  very  near. 

It  should  be  added,  that  a  speaker's  being  well  heard 
does  not  depend  near  so  much  on  the  loudness  of  the 
sounds,  as  on  their  distinctness ;  and  especially  on  the 
clear  pronunciation  of  the  consonants. 

That  the  organs  of  voice  are  much  less  strained  and 
fatigued  by  the  natural  action  which  takes  place  in  real 
speaking,  than  by  any  other,  (besides  that  it  is  what 
might  be  expected  a  priori,)  is  evident  from  daily  ex- 
perience. An  extemporary  Speaker  will  usually  be 
much  less  exhausted  in  two  hours,  than  an  elaborate 
reciter  (though  less  distinctly  heard)  will  be  in  one. 
Even  the  ordinary  tone  of  reading  aloud  is  so  much 
more  fatiguing  than  that  of  conversation,  that  feeble  pa- 
tients are  frequently  unable  to  continue  it  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  without  great  exhaustion ;  even  though  they 
may  feel  no  inconvenience  from  talking,  with  few  or  no 
pauses,  and  in  no  lower  voice,  for  more  than  double  that 
time.* 

§  4.  He  then  who  shall  determine  to  aim  Recapjtuia 
at  the  Natural-manner,  though  he  will  have  tion  of  ad- 
to  contend  with  considerable  difficulties  and  va"tae^s 
discouragements,  will  not  be  without  corres-  vantages.  ' 

•  "  We  can  at  will  enlarge  or  diminish  the  area  of  the  chest,  and 
stop,  accelerate,  or  retard  the  act  of  respiration.  When  we  attend 
to  our  breathing,  and  regulate  its  rate,  it  quickly  becomes  fatigu- 
ing ;  but  the  same  happens  with  any  voluntary  and  babitual  action, 
if  we  attempt  to  perform  it  analytically,  by  directing  the  attention 
to  erery  step  in  its  progress."— Mauo's  Physiology,  p.  107. 


294  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Paet  IV 

ponding  advantages,  in  the  course  he  is  pursuing 
He  will  be  at  first,  indeed,  repressed  to  a  greater  de- 
gree than  another,  by  emotions  of  bashfulness ;  but  it 
will  be  more  speedily  and  more  completely  subdued ; 
the  very  system  pursued,  since  it  foibids  all  thoughts  of 
self,  striking  at  the  root  of  the  evil.  He  will,  indeed, 
on  the  outset,  incur  censure,  not  only  critical  but  mor- 
al : — he  will  be  blamed  for  using  a  colloquial  delivery  • 
and  the  censure  will  very  likely  be,  as  far  as  relates  to 
his  earliest  efforts,  not  wholly  undeserved  ;  for  his  man- 
ner will  probably  at  first  too  much  resemble  that  of  con- 
versation, though  of  serious  and  earnest  conversation  : 
but  by  perseverance  he  may  be  sure  of  avoiding  deser- 
ved, and  of  mitigating,  and  ultimately  overcoming,  un- 
deserved, censure. 

He  will,  indeed,  never  be  praised  for  a  "  very  fine 
^elivery ;"  but  his  matter  will  not  lose  the  approbation 
it  may  deserve ;  as  he  will  be  the  more  sure  of  being 
heard  and  attended  to.  He  will  not,  indeed,  meet  with 
many  who  can  be  regarded  as  models  of  the  Natural- 
manner  ;  and  those  he  does  meet  with,  he  will  be  pre- 
cluded, by  the  nature  of  the  system,  from  minutely  im- 
itating ;  but  he  will  have  the  advantage  of  carrying  with 
him  an  Infallible  Guide,  as  long  as  he  is  careful  to  fol- 
low the  suggestions  of  Nature ;  abstaining  from  all 
thoughts  respecting  his  own  utterance,  and  fixing  his 
mind  intently  on  the  business  he  is  engaged  in. 

And  though  he  must  not  expect  to  attain  perfection 
at  once,  he  may  be  assured  that,  while  he  steadily  ad- 
neres  to  this  plan,  he  is  in  the  right  road  to  it ;  instead 
of  becoming,  as  on  the  other  plan,  more  and  more  arti- 
ficial, the  longer  he  studies.  And  every  advance  he 
makes  will  produce  a  proportional  effect :  it  will  give 
him  more  and  more  of  that  hold  on  the  attention,  the 
understanding,  and  the  feelings  of  the  audience,  which 
no  studied  modulation  can  ever  attain.  Others  indeed 
may  be  more  successful  in  escaping  censure,  and  ensu- 
ring admiration ;  but  he  will  far  more  surpass  them  in 


Chap.  IV.  §  5.]        OF  ELOCUTION.  29* 

respect  of  the  proper  object  of  the  Orator,  which  is,  to 
carry  his  point. 

§  5.  Much  need  not  be  said  on  the  subject     Action 
of  Action,  which  is  at  present  so  little  ap- 
proved or,  designedly,  employed,  in  this  country,  that 
it  is  hardly  to  be  reckoned  as  any  part  of  the  Orator's 
art. 

Action,  however,  seems  to  be  natural  to  man,  when 
speaking  earnestly :  but  the  state  of  the  case  at  present 
seems  to  be,  that  the  disgust  excited,  on  the  one  hand, 
by  awkward  and  ungraceful  motions,  and,  on  the  other, 
by  studied  gesticulations,  has  led  to  the  general  disuse 
of  action  altogether ;  and  has  induced  men  to  form  the 
habit  (for  it  certainly  is  a  formed  habit)  of  keeping 
themselves  quite  still,  or  nearly  so,  when  speaking 
This  is  supposed  to  be,  and  perhaps  is,  the  more  rational 
and  dignified  way  of  speaking :  but  so  strong  is  the 
tendency  to  indicate  vehement  internal  emotion  by  some 
kind  of  outward  gesture,  that  those  who  do  not  encour 
age  or  allow  themselves  in  any,  frequently  fall  uncon 
sciously  into  some  awkward  trick  of  swinging  the 
body,*  folding  a  paper,  twisting  a  string,  or  the  like 
But  when  any  one  is  reading,  or  even  speaking-,  in  the 
Artificial  manner,  there  is  little  or  nothing  of  this  ten- 
dency; precisely,  because  the  mind  is  not  whyactior 
occupied  by  that  strong  internal  emotion  is  generally 
which  occasions  it.  And  the  prevalence  of  disused- 
this  (the  artificial)  manner  may  reasonably  be  conjee 
tured  to  have  led  to  the  disuse  of  all  gesticulation,  even 
in  extemporary  speakers ;  because  if  any  one,  whose 
delivery  is  artificial,  does  use  action,  it  will  of  course 
be,  like  his  voice,  studied  and  artificial ;  and  savouring 
still  more  of  disgusting  affectation ;  from  the  circum- 

*  Of  one  of  the  ancient  Roman  Orators  it  was  satirically  remark- 
ed, (on  account  of  his  having  this  habit,)  that  he  must  have  learned 
to  speak  in  a  boat.  Of  some  other  Orators,  whose  favourite  action 
is  rising  on  tiptoe,  it  would  perhaps  have  been  said,  that  they  had 
oeen  accustomed  to  address  their  audience  over  a  high  wall 


296  ELEMENTS  OF  RHETORIC.     [Pari  IV 

stance  that  it  evidently  might  be  entirely  omitted.*  And 
hence,  the  practice  came  to  be  generally  disapproved, 
and  exploded 

It  need  only  be  observed,  that,  in  conformity  with  the 
principles  maintained  throughout  this  Book,  no  care 
should,  in  any  case,  be  taken  to  use  graceful  or  appro- 
priate action ;  which,  if  net  perfectly  unstudied,  will 
always  be  (as  has  been  just  remarked)  intolerable.  But 
if  any  one  spontaneously  falls  into  any  gestures  that 
are  unbecoming,  care  should  then  be  taken  to  break  the 
habit ;  and  that,  not  only  in  public  speaking,  but  on  all 
occasions.  The  case,  indeed,  is  the  same  with  utter- 
ance :  if  any  one  has,  in  common  discourse,  an  indis- 
tinct, hesitating,  dialectic,  or  otherwise  faulty  delivery, 
his  Natural  manner  certainly  is  not  what  he  should 
adopt  in  public  speaking ;  but  he  should  endeavour,  by 
care,  to  remedy  the  defect,  not  in  public  speaking  only, 
but  in  ordinary  conversation  also.  And  so  also,  with 
respect  to  attitudes  and  gestures.  It  is  in  these  points, 
principally,  if  not  exclusively,  that  the  remarks  of  an 
intelligent  friend  will  be  beneficial. 

If,  again,  any  one  finds  himself  naturally  and  spon- 
taneously led  to  use,  in  speaking,  a  moderate  degree  of 
action,  which  he  finds  from  the  observation  of  others 
not  to  be  ungraceful  or  inappropriate,  there  is  no  reason 
that  he  should  study  to  repress  this  tendency. 
Action  na-  §  ®*  ^  V,T°U^  De  inconsistent  with  the 
turaiiy  pre-  principle  just  laid  down,  to  deliver  any  pre- 
cedes the  cepts  for  gesture;  because  the  observance  of 
even  the  best  conceivable  precepts,  would, 
by  destroying  the  natural  appearance,  be  fatal  to  their 
object :  but  there  is  a  remark,  which  is  worthy  of  atten- 
tion, from  the  illustration  it  affords  of  the  erroneousness, 
ai  detail,  as  well  as  in  principle,  of  the  ordinary  systems 

*  "  Gralas  inter  mensas  symphonia  discors, 

Kt  crassum  unguenlum,  el  Sardo  cum  melle  papavei 
Qffeidunt ;  poterat  duci  quia  ccena  sine  istis." 

Horace,  Jlrs  Poel. 


Cue.  IV.  §  6  J       OF  ELOCUTION.  297 

of  instruction  in  this  point.  Boys  are  generally  taught 
to  employ  the  prescribed  action  either  after,  or  during 
the  utterance  of  the  words  it  is  to  enforce.  The  best 
and  most  appropriate  action  must,  from  this  circum- 
stance alone,  necessarily  appear  a  feeble  affectation. 
It  suggests  the  idea  of  a  person  speaking  to  those  who 
do  not  fully  understand  the  language,  and  striving  by 
signs  to  explain  the  meaning  of  what  he  has  been  saying 
The  very  same  gesture,  had  it  come  at  the  pioper,  thai 
is,  the  natural,  point  of  time  might,  perhaps  have  added 
greatly  to  the  effect ;  viz.  had  it  preceded  somewhat  the 
utterance  of  the  words.  That  is  always  the  natural 
order  of  action.  An  emotion,*  struggling  for  utteranct, 
produces  a  tendency  to  a  bodily  gesture,  to  express  that 
emotion  more  quickly  than  words  can  be  framed ;  the 
words  follow,  as  soon  as  they  can  be  spoken.  And 
this  being  always  the  case  with  a  real,  earnest,  un- 
studied speaker,  this  mode  of  placing  the  action  fore- 
most, gives,  (if  it  be  otherwise  appropriate)  the  appear- 
ance of  earnest  emotion  actually  present  in  the  mind. 
And  the  reverse  of  this  natural  order  would  alone  be 
sufficient  to  convert  the  action  of  Demosthenes  himself 
into  unsuccessful  and  ridiculous  pantomime. 

•  "  Format  enim  Natura  prius  nos  inlus  ad  omnem 
Fortunarum  habitum  ;  juvat,  aut  impellit  ad  iram : 
Jtut  ad  humum  mrnwe  gravi  deducit,  et  angit : 
Tost  effert  animi  motus  inftrprele  lingua." 

Horace,  J&rs  Poti. 


APPENDIX 


Pages  20,  120,  241.  [A.] 

Omnino  noc  volumus,  locos  omnes,  quorum  frequens  est 
usus  (sive  ad  probationes  et  refutationes,  sive  ad  suasiones 
etdissuasiones,  sive  ad  laudeset  vituperia  spectent)  medi- 
tatos  jam  haberi,  eosque  ultimis  ingenii  viribus,  et  tanquam 
improbe,  et  prorsus  praeter  veritatem,  attolli,  et  deprimi. 
Modum  autem  hujus  collectionis,  tarn  ad  usum,  quam  ad 
brevitatem,  optimum  fore  censemus,  si  hujusmodi  loci 
contrahantur  in  sententias  quasdam  acutas  et  concisas ; 
tanquam  glomos  quosdam,  quorum  fila  in  fusiorem  discur- 
sum,  cum  res  postulat,  explicari  possint.  *  *  *  * 
Ejus  generis,  cum  plurima  parata  habeamus,  aliqua  ad 
exemplum  proDonere  visum  est.  Ea  autem  antitheta  rerum 
nominamus. 


NOBILITAS. 


PRO. 

*  *  * 

Nobilitas  laurea,  qua  tem- 
pus  homines  coronat. 

Antiquitatem  etiam  in 
monumentis  mortuis  vene- 
ramur :  quanto  magis  in 
vivis  1 

#  •  * 

Nobilitasvirtutem  invidia? 
eubducit,  graliae  tradit. 


CONTRA. 

Raro  ex  virtute  nobilitas  ? 
rarius  ex  nobilitate  virtus. 

Nobiles  majorum  depreca 
tione  ad  veniam  saepius  ut- 
untur,  quam  sufFragatione  ad 
honores. 

Tanta  solet  esse  industria 
hominum  novorum,  ut  no- 
biles  prae  illis  tanquam  statuae 
videantur. 

Nobiles  in  stadio  respect- 
ant  nimis  saepe :  quod  mali 
cursorisest. 


300 


APPENDIX 


JUVENTUS. 


Senea  .sibi  sapiunt  magis  ; 
aliis  et  reipublicae  minus. 

Si  conspici  daretur,  magis 
deformat  animos,  quam  cor- 
pora, senectus. 

Senes  omnia  metuunt, 
praeter  Deos. 


CONTRA. 

Juventus  pcenitentiae  cam- 
pus. 

Ingenitus  est  juvenibus  se- 
nilis auctoritatis  contempt- 
us;  ut  quisque  suo  periculo 
sapiat. 

Tempus,  ad  quae  consilia 
non  advocatur,  nee  rata 
habet.         *  * 


UXOR  ET  LIBERI. 


PRO. 

Charitas  reipublicae  incipit 
a  familia. 

Uxor  et  liberi  disciplina 
quaedam  humanitatis ;  at 
ccelibes  tetrici  et  severi. 

Ccelibatus  et  orbitas  ad 
nil  aliud  conferunt,  quam  ad 
fugam. 


CONTRA 

Qui  uxorem  duxit,  et  k- 
beros  suscepit,  obsides  for- 
tunae  dedit. 

*  *  * 

Brutorum  eternitas  sobo- 
les  ;  virorum  fama,  merita, 
et  instituta. 

(Economical  rationes  pub 
licas  plerunque  evertunt 


DIVITkE. 


PRO. 

Divitias  contemnunt,  qui 
•esperant. 

#  #  * 

Dum  philosophi  dubitant, 
*itrum  ad  virtutem  an  volup- 
vatem  omnia  sint  referenda, 
collige  instrumenta  utrius- 
que. 

Virtu3  per  divitias  vertitur 
in  commun  bonum. 


CONTRA. 

Divitiarum  magnarum  vel 
custodia  est,  vel  dispensatio 
quasdam,  vel  fama ;  at  nullus 
usus. 

Annon  vides  lapillis,  et  id 
genus  deliciis,  fingi  pretia, 
ut  possit  esse  aliquis  mag- 
narum divitiarum  usus *! 

Multi,  dum  divitiis  suia 
omnia  venalia  fore  credide- 
runt,  ipsiinprimisvenierunt. 

Non  aliud  divitias  dix« 
erim,     quam    impedimenta 


APPENDIX 


301 


CONTRA 

virtutis:  nam  virtuti  et  ne> 
cessariae  sunt  et  graves. 

Divitiae  bona  ancilla,  pes 
sima  domina. 


HONORES 


TRO. 
*  *  * 

Honores  faciunt  et  virtutes 
et  vitia  conspicua;  itaque 
illas  provocant,  hasc  refrae- 
nant. 

Non  novit  quispiam,  quan- 
tum in  virtutis  cursu  pro- 
fecerit;  nisi  honores  ei  cam- 
pum  praebeant  apertum. 


CONTRA. 

Dum  honores  appelimus, 
libertatem  exuimus. 

Honores  dant  fere  potesta- 
tem  earum  rerum,  quas  opti- 
ma conditio  est  nolle,  proxi- 
ma  non  posse. 

Honorum  ascensus  arduus, 
statio  lubrica,  regressus  prae- 
ceps. 

Qui  in  honore  sunt,  vulgi 
opinionem  mutuenter  opor- 
tet,  ut  seipsos  beatos  putent. 


IMPERIA. 

CONTRA. 

Quam  miserum,    habere 


PRO. 

Felicitate   frui,    magnum 
bonum  est]  sed  earn  et  aliis    nil  fere,  quod  appetas ;  infi 
impertiri  posse,  adhucmajus.    nita,  quae  metuas  1 


LAUS,  EXISTIMATIO. 


PRO. 

Virtutis  radii  reflexi  lau- 
des. 

Laus  honor  is  est,  ad  quern 
liberis  suffrages  pervenitur. 

Honores  a  diversis  politiis 
conferuntur,  sed  laudes  ubi- 
que  sunt  libertatis. 

*  *  # 

Ne  mireris,  si  vulgus  Ve- 
nus loquatur,  quam  honora- 
tiores ;  quia  etiam  tutiua 
loquitur. 


CONTRA. 

Famadeterior  judex,  quam 
nuncia. 

Fama  veluti  fluvius,  levia 
attollit,  solida  mergit. 

Infimarum  virtutum  apud 
vulgus  laus  est,  mediarum 
admiratio,  supremarum  scd- 
sus  nulius 


302  APPENDIX. 


NATURA. 


PRO.  CONIRA. 

Consuetudo   contra  natu-  Cogitamus  secundum  na. 

ram,  quasi  tyrannisquaedam  turam ;  loquimur  secundum 

est:  etcito,  aclevioccasione  praecepta ;  sed    agimus   se- 

corruit.  cundum  consuetudinem. 

FORTUNA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Virtutes  apertae  laudes  pa-  Stultitia  unius,  fortuna  al- 
riunt,  occulta?  fortunas.  terius. 

Fortuna  veluti   galaxia ;  *  *  * 

hoc  est,  nodus  quarundam 
obscurarum  virtutum,  sine 
nomine. 

VITA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Praestat  ad  omnia,  etiam        Non    invenias    inter   hu- 

ad  virtutem,  curriculum  Ion-  manos  affectum  tarn  pusil- 

gum,  quam  breve.  lum,  qui,  si  intendatur  paulo 

Absque  spatiis  vitas   ma-  vehementius,     non    mortis 

joribus,  nee  perficere  datur,  metum  superet. 
nee  perdiscere,   nee  pceni- 
tere 

SUPER  STITIO. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Qui  zelo  peccant,  non  pro-  Ut  simiae,  similitudo  cum 
foandi,  sed  tamen  amandi  homine,deformitatemaddit: 
sunt.  ita  superstitioni,  similitudo 

*  *  *  cum  religione. 

Praestat  nullam  habere  de 
diis  opinionem,  quam  con 
tumeliosam 

SUPERBIA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Superbia  etiam  vitiia  in-       Hebera  virtutum  ac  bono 


APPENDIX. 


303 


PRO. 

eoeiabilis;  atque  ut  venerium 
veneno,  ita  haud  pauca  vitia 
superbia  expelluntur. 

Facilis,  etiam  alienis  vitiis 
obnoxius  est :  superbus,  tan- 
tum  suis. 


CONTRA 

rum  omnium  superbia. 

Castera  vitia  virtutibus 
tantum  contraria;  superbia 
sola  contagiosa. 


INVIDIA. 


PRO. 

Invidia  in  rebuspublicis, 
tanquam  salubris  ostracis- 
mus. 


CONTRA 

Nemo  virtuti  invidiam  re 
conciliaverit  prater  mortem. 

Invidia  virtutes  laboribus 
exercet,  ut  Juno  Herculem 


IMPUDICITIA. 


CONTRA. 

Omnes,  ut  Paris,  qui  for- 
mae  optionem  faciunt,  pru- 
dentiae  et  potentiae  jacturam 
faciunt. 


GLORIA  VANA. 


PRO. 

Qui  suas  laudes  appetit, 
aliorum  simul  appetit  utilita- 
fes. 


Turpe  est  proco  solicitare 
ancillam ;  est  autem  virtutis 
ancilla  laus. 


FORTITUDO. 


PRO 

Nil  aut  in  voluptate  soli- 
dum,  aut  in  virtute  munitum, 
ubi  timot  infestat. 

Caeterae  virtutes  nos  a  do- 
minatu  liberant  vitiorum ; 
fortitudo  sola  a  dominatu 
fortunas 


CONTRA. 

Vitae  suae  prodigus,  aliens 
periculosus. 

Virtus  ferreae  aetatis  forti- 
tudo. 


304 


APPENDIX 


CONSTANTIA. 


PRO. 

Basis  virtutum  constantia. 

Miser  est,  qui  qualis  ipse 
futurus  sit,  non  novit. 

Etiam  vitiis  decus  aspirat 
constantia. 

Si  ad  fortur.ae  inconstan- 
tiam  accedat  etiam  incon- 
stantia  mentis,  in  quantis 
tenebris  vivitur. 

Fortuna,  tanquam  Proteus, 
si  perseveres,  ad  formam 
redit. 


CONTRA. 

Constantia,  ut  janitrix  mo* 
rosa,  multa  utilia  indicia 
abigit. 

JEquum  est,  ut  constantia 
res  adversas  bene  toleret ; 
nam  fere  inducit. 

Stullitia  brevissima  op- 
tima. 


SCIENTIA,  CONTEMPLATIO 


PRO. 

Ea  demum  voluptas  est  se- 
cundum naturam,  cujus  non 
e&t  satietas. 

*  *  * 

Omnes  affectus  pravi,  falsa? 
astimationes  sunt ;  atque 
eadem  sunt  bonitas  et  Veri- 
tas. 


CONTRA. 

Contemplatio,  speciosa  m 
ertia. 

Bene  cogitare,  non  multo 
melius  est,  quam  bene  som- 
niare. 


LITERJE. 


Lectio  est  conversatio 
cum  prudentibus ;  actio  fere 
eum  stultis. 

Non  inutiles  scientiae  ex- 
istimandae  sunt,  quarum  in  se 
nullus  est  usus,  si  ingenia 
acuant,  et  ordinent. 


CONTRA. 

Quae  unquam  ars  docmt 
tempestivum  artis  usum  1 

Artis  saepissime  ineptu* 
usus  est,  ne  sit  nullus. 


APPENDIX. 


305 


PROMPTITUDO. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Opportuna  prudentia  non  *            *            * 

est,  quae  celeris  non  est.  Cujus  consilia  non  maturat 

Qui  cito  errat,  cito  errorem  deliberatio,  nee  prudentiam 

emendat.  aetas. 

POPULARITAS. 


Qui  ipsi  magni  viri  sunt, 
neminem  unum  fere  habent, 
quem  vereantur,  sed  popu- 
lum. 


Infima  assentatio  est  as- 
sentatio  vulgi. 


DISSIMULATIO 


PRO. 

Dissimulatio,  compendi- 
ariasapientia. 

Sepes  consiliorum,  dissi- 
mulatio. 


CONTRA. 

Quibus  artes  civiles  supra 
captum  ingenii  sunt,  iis  dis- 
simulatio pro  prudentia  erit 

Qui  dissimulat,  praecipuo 


Qui  indissimulanter  omnia  ad  agendum  instrumento  st 

agit,  asque  decipit ;  namplu-  privat,  i.  e.  fide, 
rimi,  aut  non  capiunt,  aut         Dissimulatio    dissimulat 

non  credunt.  ionem  invitat. 


CEREMONIJE,  PUNCTOS,  AFFECTATIO 


Si  et  in  verbis  vulgo  pare- 
mus,  quidni  in  habitu,  et 
gestu  1 

Virtus  et  prudentia  sine 
punctis,  velut  peregrinae  lin- 
guas  sunt ;  nam  vulgo  non 
intelliguntur. 

Puneti  translatio  sunt  vir- 
tutis  in  linguam  vernaculam. 


CONTRA. 

Quid  deformius,  quam 
scenam  in  vitam  transferre  1 

Magis  placent  cerussata 
buccae,  et  calamistratacoma, 
quam  cerussati  et  calami* 
trati  mores. 


24 


306 


APPENDIX. 


AM1CITIA. 


PRO. 

Pessima  solitudo,  non 
veras  habere  amicitias. 

Digna  make  fidei  ultio, 
amicitiis  privari. 


CONTRA. 

Qui  amicitias  arctas  copu- 
lat,  novas  necessitates  sibi 
imponit. 

Animi  imbecilli  est,  par- 
tiri  fortunam. 


V1NDICTA. 


PRO. 

Vindicta  privata,  justitia 
agrestis. 

Qui  vim  rependit,  legem 
tantum  violation  hominem. 

Utilis  metus  ultionis  pri- 
vatae ;  nam  leges  nimium 
saepe  dormiunt. 


CONTRA. 

Qui  injuriam  fecit,  prin- 
cipium  malo  dedit ;  qui  red- 
didit, modum  abstulit. 

Vindicta,  quo  magis  natu- 
ralis,  eo  magis  coercenda. 

Qui  facile  injuriam  reddit, 
is  fortasse  tempore,  non 
voluntate  posterior  erat. 


INNOVATIO. 


PRO. 

Omnis  medicina  innova- 
tio. 

Qui  nova  remedia  fugit, 
nova  mala  operitur. 

Novator  maximus  tempus : 
quidni  igitur  tempus  imite- 
mur  1 

Morosa  morum  retentio, 
res  turbulenta  est,  aeque  ac 
novitas. 

Cum  per  se  res  mutentur 
in  deterius,  si  consilio  in 
melius  non  mutentur,  quis 
finis  erit  mali  1 


CONTRA. 

Nullus  auctor  placet,  prae« 
ter  tempus. 

Nulla  novitas  absque  in- 
juria ;  nam  praesentia  con- 
vellit. 

Quaa  usu  obtinuere,  si  non 
bona,  at  saltern  apta  inter  se 
sunt. 

Quis  novator  tempus  imi- 
tatur,  quod  novationes  ita  in 
sinuat,  ut  sensus  fallant  1 

Quod  praster  spem  evenit, 
cui  prodest,  minus  accep- 
tum  ;  cui  obest,  magis  mo. 
lestum. 


APPENDIX. 


307 


MORA. 

PRO.  CONTRA. 

Fortuna  multa  festinanti  Occasio  instar  Sibyllae  mi 
yendit,  quibus  morantem  nuit  oblatum,  pretium  auget. 
donat  Ccleritas,  Orci  galea 


PRO. 


Merito  ejus  fides  suspecta 
est,  quam  suspicio  labefacit. 


SUSPICIO. 

Suspicio  fidem  absolvtt 
*  #  # 


CONTRA. 


VERBA  LEGIS. 


PRO. 

Non  est  interpretatio,  sed 
divinatio,  quae  recedit  a 
litera. 

Cum  receditur  a  litera, 
judex  transit  in  legislatorem. 


CONTRA. 

Ex  omnibus  verbis  elicien- 
dus  est  sensus,  qui  interpre- 
tetur  singula. 

Pessima  tyrannis  lex  in 
equuleo. 


PRO  TESTIBUS  CONTRA  ARGUMENTA. 


PRO. 

Secundum  oratorem,  non 
secundum  causam  pronun- 
ciat,  qui  argumentis  nititur. 

Tutum  foret  argumentis 
credere,  si  homines  nihil 
absurdi  facerent. 

Argumenta,  cum  sint  con- 
tra testimonia,  hoc  praestant, 
ut  res  mira  videatur,  non 
autem  ut  non  vera. 


CONTRA. 

Si  testibus  credendum  sit 
contra  argumenta,  sufRcit, 
tantum  judicem  esse  non 
surdum. 

lis  probationibus  tutissimo 
creditur,  quae  rarissime  men- 
tiuntur. 


Page  45.  [B.] 

" there  is  a  distinction  to  be  made  between  the 

unnatural  and  the  merely  improbable :  a  fiction  is  unnatu- 
ral when  there  is  some  assignable  reason  against  the  events 


308  APPENDIX. 

taking  place  as  described — when  men  are  represented  as  act- 
ing contrary  to  the  character  assigned  them,  or  to  human 
nature  in  general;  as  when  a  young  lady  of  seventeen, 
brought  up  in  ease,  luxury,  and  retirement,  with  no  com- 
panions but  the  narrow-minded  and  illiterate,  displays  (as 
a  heroine  usually  does)  under  the  most  trying  circumstan- 
ces such  wisdom,  fortitude,  and  knowledge  of  the  world, 
as  lhe  best  instructors  and  the  best  examples  can  rarely 
produce  without  the  aid  of  more  mature  age  and  longer 
experience. — On  the  other  hand,  a  fiction  is  still  improba- 
ble though  not  unnatural,  when  there  is  no  reason  to  be 
assigned  why  things  should  not  take  place  as  represented, 
except  that  the  overbalance  of  chances  is  against  it ;  the 
hero  meets,  in  his  utmost  distress,  most  opportunely,  with 
the  very  person  to  whom  he  had  formerly  done  a  signal 
service,  and  who  happens  to  communicate  to  him  a  piece 
of  intelligence  which  sets  all  to  rights.  Why  should  he 
not  meet  him  as  well  as  any  one  else  1  all  that  can  be  said 
is,  that  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should.  The  infant 
who  is  saved  from  a  wreck,  and  who  afterwards  becomes 
such  a  constellation  of  virtues  and  accomplishments,  turns 
out  to  be  no  other  than  tke  nephew  of  the  very  gentleman 
on  whose  estate  the  waves  had  cast  him,  and  whose  lovely 
daughter  he  had  so  long  sighed  for  in  vain:  there  is  no 
reason  to  be  given,  except  from  the  calculation  of  chances, 
why  he  should  not  have  been  thrown  on  one  part  of  the 
coast  as  well  as  on  another.  Nay,  it  would  be  nothing 
unnatural,  though  the  most  determined  novel-reader  would 
be  shocked  at  its  improbability,  if  all  the  heroe's  enemies, 
while  they  were  conspiring  his  ruin,  were  to  be  struck 
dead  together  by  a  lucky  flash  of  lightning:  yet  many  de- 
nouements which  are  decidedly  unnatural,  are  better  tole- 
rated than  this  would  be.  We  shall,  perhaps,  best  explain 
our  meaning  by  examples,  taken  from  a  novel  of  great 
merit  in  many  respects.  When  Lord  Glenthorn,  in  whom 
a  most  unfavourable  education  has  acted  on  a  most  unfa- 
vourable disposition,  after  a  life  of  torpor,  broken  only  by 
short  sallies  of  forced  exertion,  on  a  sudden  reverse  of 
fortune,  displays  at  once  the  most  presevering  diligence  in 
the  most  repulsive  studies;  and  in  middle  life,  without 
any  previous  habits  of  exertion,  any  hope  of  early  busi- 
ness, or  the  example  of  friends,  or  the  stimulus  of  actual 


APPENDIX.  309 

watt,  to  urge  him,  outstrips  every  competitor,  though 
every  competitor  has  every  advantage  against  him  ;  this  ia 
unnatural. — When  Lord  Glenthorn,  the  instant  he  is  strip- 
ped of  his  estates,  meets,  falls  in  love  with,  and  is  condi 
tionally  accented  by,  the  very  lady  who  is  remotely  enti- 
tled to  those  estates;  when  the  instant  he  has  fulfilled  »he 
conditions  of  their  marriage,  the  family  of  the  person  pos- 
sessed of  the  estates  becomes  extinct,  and  by  the  concur- 
rence of  circumstances,  against  every  one  of  which  the 
chances  were  enormous,  the  hero  is  re-instated  in  all  his 
old  domains;  this  is  merely  improbable.  The  distinction 
which  we  have  been  pointing  out  may  be  plainly  perceived 
in  the  events  of  real  life  ;  when  any  thing  takes  place  of 
such  a  nature  as  we  should  call,  in  a  fiction,  merely  im- 
probable, because  there  are  many  chances  against  it,  we 
call  it  a  lucky  or  unlucky  accident,  a  singular  coincidence, 
something  very  extraordinary,  odd,  curious,  &c.  ;  where 
as  any  thing  which,  in  a  fiction,  would  be  called  unnatu- 
ral, when  it  actually  occurs,  (and  such  things  do  occur,) 
is  still  called  unnatural,  inexplicable,  unaccountable,  in- 
conceivable, &c.  epithets  which  are  not  applied  to  events 
that  have  merely  the  balance  of  chances  against  them." — 
Quarterly  Review,  No.  xlviii.  pp.  354,  355.  The  whole 
article  has  been  republished  in  Lockhart's  edition  of  the 
Works  of  Sir  W.  Scott  (who  however  is  not  the  author,) 
Vol.  xviii.  p.  209.     Miscellaneous  Prose  Works. 

Page  56.  [C] 

"  '  Clothed  in  authority  derived  from  the  authority,  and 
in  symbolic  robes  analogous  to  the  judge,  the  advocate, 
observing  in  an  honest  witness  a  deponent  whose  testimo- 
ny promises  to  be  adverse,  assumes  terrific  tones  and  de- 
portment, and  pretending  to  find  dishonesty  on  the  part  of 
the  witness,  strives  to  give  his  testimony  the  appearance 
of  it.  I  say  a  bond  fide  witness ;  or  in  the  case  of  a  wit- 
ness who  by  an  adverse  interrogator  is  really  looked  upon 
as  dishonest,  this  is  not  the  proper  course,  nor  is  it  taken 
with  him.  For  bringing  to  light  the  falsehood  of  a  wit- 
ness really  believed  to  be  mendacious,  the  more  suitable, 
or  rather  the  only  suitable  course,  is  to  forbear  to  express 
the  impression  he  has  inspired.     Supposing  his  tale  cleaj 


110  APPENDIX. 

of  suspicion,  the  witness  runs  on  his  course,  with  fluency 
till  he  is  entangled  in  some  irretrievable  contradiction  at 
variance  with  other  parts  of  his  own  story,  or  with  facts 
notorious  in  themselves,  or  established  by  proofs  from 
other  sources.'  3 

"  We  happen  to  be  aware,  from  the  practice  of  persons 
of  the  highest  experience  in  the  examination  of  witnesses, 
that  this  description  is  almost  without  exception  correct, 
and  that,  as  a  general  rule,  it  is  only  the  honest  and  timid 
witness  who  is  confounded  by  imperious  deportment.  The 
practice  gives  pre-eminence  to  the  unscrupulous  witnesses 
who  can  withstand  such  assaults.  Sir  Roger  North,  in  his 
'  Life  of  Sir  Dudley  North,'  relates,  that  the  law  of  Tur- 
key, like  our  absurd  law  of  evidence  in  some  cases,  re- 
quired the  testimony  of  two  witnesses  in  proof  of  each  fact, 
and  that  a  practice  had,  in  consequence,  arisen,  and  had 
obtained  the  sanction  of  general  opinion,  of  using  a  false 
witness  in  proof  of  those  facts  whch  admitted  only  of  one 
witness.  Sir  Dudley  North,  while  in  Turkey,  had  nu- 
merous disputes  which  it  became  necessary  to  settle  by 
litigation  :   '  and,'  says  his  biographer — 

"  •  Our  merchant  found  by  experience,  that  in  a  direct 
fact  a  false  witness  was  a  surer  card  than  a  true  one  ;  for 
if  the  judge  has  a  mind  to  baffle  a  testimony,  an  honest, 
harmless  witness,  that  doth  not  know  his  play,  cannot  so 
»vell  stand  his  many  captious  questions  as  a  false  witness 
used  to  the  trade  will  do  ;  for  he  hath  been  exercised,  and 
>s  prepared  for  such  handling,  and  can  clear  himself,  when 
the  other  will  be  confounded  ;  therefore  circumstances 
may  be  such  as  to  make  the  false  one  more  eligible.'  " 

"  Those  who  have  been  present  in  our  common  law 
courts  will  say  whether  the  bar  does  not  avail  itself  of  its 
authoritative  protection  to  cast  off' all  restraints  against  all 
parties.  To  serve  the  client  by  '  all  expedient  means,  to 
protect  that  client  at  all  hazards  and  costs  to  all  others,'  or, 
according  to  the  noble  and  learned  lord  who  vindicates 
the  practice  as  a  duty  to  disregard  the  'alarm,  the  suffer- 
ing, the  torment,  the  destruction,  he  may  bring  upon  any 
others,'  we  have  seen  innocent  and  respectable  females  so 
confused,  an<i  assailed  with  such  imperious  gestures  and 
condemnatory  tones,  on  the  assumptions  (as  groundless 
as  the  assumptions  in  the  conspicuous  case  of  Courvoisier) 


APPENDIX.  311 

that  they  had  committed  perjury,  as  would  make  any  fa« 
ther  or  brother  shudder  at  exposing  daughter  or  sister  to, 
and  in  such  a  manner  as  the  counsel  using  the  'expedient 
means'  neither  could  nor  would  use  under  any  circum- 
stances in  respectable  private  society.  The  most  demor- 
alizing effect  produced  by  these  exhibitions  appears  to  us 
to  be  the  treatment  given  to  persons  of  the  labouring 
classes,  servants  or  policemen.  If  good  conduct  is  to  be 
promoted  in  them,  one  means  of  doing  so  is  surely  to  in- 
crease their  estimation  of  the  value  of  character;  one 
means  of  raising  their  moral  perceptions  is  rather  to  as- 
sume that  they  are  keenly  alive  to  the  pleasures  and  pains 
of  self  and  social  estimation,  than  that  they  are  dead  to 
them.  We  have  frequently  witnessed  such  treatment  of 
witnesses  as  that  displayed  in  the  case  of  Courvoisier,  but 
we  never  happened  to  witness  an  attempt '  to  comfort '  the 
shattered  witness  of  that  class.  Though  the  depraved  state 
of  the  bar  permits  the  practice  of  such  inflictions  in  public 
trials,  it  does  not  prevent  the  judge  from  doing  justice,  by 
endeavouring  to  soothe  the  irritation,  and  at  the  same 
time  manifesting  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman." 

"  The  evil  complained  of  is,  it  appears  to  us,  implicated 
in  the  rules  that  a  prisoner  shall  be  protected  against  being 
•compelled'  to  criminate  himself,  and  in  the  practice  of 
the  English  courts,  that  the  character  of  the  prisoner's  de- 
fence shall  not  affect  the  sentence. 

"  The  counsel,  it  is  held,  must  be  free  to  do  what  the 
prisoner  may  do  in  his  defence,  and  the  prisoner's  defence 
must  be  entirely  free. 

"  Without  acceding  to  the  unqualified  proposition  as  to 
the  extent  of  the  prisoner's  defence,  we  think  it  may  be 
observed  that  counsel  do  more  for  a  guilty  prisoner  than  he 
could  do  for  himself.  It  will  aid  in  giving  a  correct  con- 
ception of  the  real  character  of  the  licence  of  counsel,  if 
we  conceive  the  terms  of  a  counsel's  speech  in  defence, 
or  the  counsel's  general  terms  and  tones  of  questions  to 
witnesses  proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  the  prisoner,  the 
party  whom  the  counsel  represents.  Innocence  is  calm  and 
gentle,  and  in  meeting  false  testimony  vindicates  itself 
without  assuming  the  tone  of  furiously  passionate  condem- 
nation. What  would  have  been  the  Jury's  conclusion 
upon  Courvoiser  after  he  had  poured  forth  a  few  sentences 


312  APPENDIX 

of  the  description  of  those  we  have  quoted,  decorated  with 
the  epithets  ' gang,' '  ruffians,'  conspirators,'  •  blood-money,' 
and  the  insinuation  *  this  woman,'  against  a  respectable 
female  1 

"  If  the  suppressio  veri  be  permitted  as  the  privilege  of 
counsel,  and  the  Magna  Charta  of  delinquents  in  England, 
still  we  must  venture  to  propose  as  an  innovation  that  the 
freedom  of  defence  should  be  restricted  so  far  as  it  may  be 
conceived  to  consist  in  the  suggestio  falsi.  Inasmuch  as 
the  law  restricts  the  freedom  of  an  accused  person  from  the 
use  of  such  physical  means  of  defending  himself  against 
capture  as  a  knife,  so  we  think  the  use  of  foul  weapons  of 
mental  assault  and  injury,  such  as  perjury  and  false  im- 
putations on  parties,  may  be  beneficially  forbidden  to  the 
prisoner,  and,  by  consequence,  to  his  counsel." 

"  It  is  said  we  abound  in  mercy,  but  we  give  so  much 
of  it  to  the  guilty,  that  we  have  none  to  spare  for  the  in- 
nocent. Criminal  justice  has  been  made  to  vacillate  in 
this  country  between  two  sets  of  blind  presumptions — the 
ancient  one,  which  presumed  guilt  in  all  who  were  accused, 
and  the  modern  one,  which  presumes  that  all  who  are  ac- 
cused are  innocent,  and  which  even  after  conviction,  over- 
ooks  the  party  injured  and  the  tendency  of  the  crime,  and 
bestows  unbounded  sympathy  on  the  criminal.  A  treatise 
might  be  written  in  illustration  of  the  mischiefs  of  acting 
on  presumptions,  when  the  facts  of  the  particular  case  are 
developed  and  require  none.  Our  English  practice,  it  ap- 
pears to  us,  requires  the  tertium  quid  of  not  proven.'  The 
sympathies  of  the  Old  Bailey  bar  are,  we  must  say,  on  the 
same  side  with  their  lucre,  and  with  all  the  inmates  of  the 
gaol ;  with  them,  all  policemen  are  what  they  were  desig- 
nated in  Courvoiser's  case,  bloodhounds — and  witnesses, 
persecutors  of  the  innocent.  Entire  innocence  is  always  in 
peril  in  the  dock,  and  has  no  other  security  than  in  the  aid 
of  counsel."-  From  a  Pamphlet  on  the  "License  of  Counsel." 

Page  59.  [D.] 

"To  say  that  numerous  old  manuscripts  exist;  that 
they  admit  of  classification  and  date,  and  other  character- 
istics ;  to  speak  of  evidence,  derived  from  contemporary 
history,  from  the  monuments  of  art,  from  national  manner* 


APPENDIX.  31* 

and  customs  ;  to  assert,  that  there  have  been  persons 
qualified  for  the  task,  who  have  examined  duly  these  se- 
veral branches  of  evidence,  and  have  given  a  satisfactory 
report  of  that  research,  is  to  make  a  statement  concerning 
the  evidence  of  Christianity,  which  is  intelligible  indeed, 
but  is  not  itself  the  evidence,  not  itself  the  proof,  of  which 
you  speak.  So  far  from  this  being  the  case,  we  cannot  but 
feel,  that  the  author  who  is  guiding  us,  and  pointing  out 
these  pillars  of  our  faith,  as  they  appear  engraved  on  his 
chart  of  evidence,  can  himself,  whatever  be  his  learning, 
be  personally  acquainted  with  but  a  very  small  portion. 
The  most  industrious  and  able  scholar,  after  spending  a 
life  on  some  individual  point  of  evidence,  the  collation  of 
manuscripts,  the  illustrations  derived  from  uninspired  au- 
thors, translations,  or  whatever  the  inquiry  be,  must,  after 
all,  (it  would  seem,)  rest  by  far  the  greater  part  of  his  faith, 
immediately  on  the  testimony  of  others  ;  as  thousands  in 
turn  will  rest  their  faith  on  his  testimony,  to  the  existence 
of  such  proof  as  he  has  examined.  There  is  no  educated 
Christian  who  is  not  taught  to  appreciate  the  force  of  that 
proof  in  favour  of  the  genuineness  of  the  New  Testament, 
which  may  be  derived  from  the  consent  of  ancient  copies, 
and  the  quotations  found  in  a  long  line  of  fathers,  and 
other  writers,  and  yet  not  one  in  a  thousand  ever  reads  the 
works  of  the  fathers,  or  sees  a  manuscript,  or  is  even  ca- 
pable of  deciphering  one,  if  presented  to  him.  He  admits 
the  very  groundwork  of  his  faith  on  the  assertion  of  those 
who  profess  to  have  ascertained  these  points  ;  and  even 
the  most  learned  are  no  further  exceptions  to  this  case,  than 
in  the  particular  branch  of  evidence  which  they  have  stu- 
died. Nay,  even  in  their  use  of  this,  it  will  be  surprising, 
when  we  come  to  reflect  on  it,  how  great  a  portion  must 
be  examined,  only  through  statements  resting  on  the  tes- 
timony of  others. 

Nor  is  it  a  question  which  can  be  waived,  by  throwing 
the  weight  of  disproof  on  those  who  cavil  and  deny.  It 
turns  upon  the  use  which  is  made,  more  or  less,  by  all,  of 
the  positive  proofs  urged  in  defence  of  Christianity.  Chris- 
tianity is  established,  and  it  may  be  fair  to  bid  its  assailants 
prove,  that  it  is  not  what  it  professes  to  be,  the  presump- 
tion and  prescriptive  title  being  on  its  side  ;  but  Christi- 
anity   does   not  intrench    itself  within    this  fortress:  it 


314  APPENDIX. 

brings  out  into  the  field  an  array  of  evidences  to  establish 
that  which,  on  the  former  view  of  the  case,  its  adherents 
are  supposed  not  to  be  called  on  to  maintain.  It  boasts  of 
the  sacred  volume  having  been  transmitted  pure  by  means 
of  manuscripts  ;  and  by  asserting  the  antiquity,  the  free- 
dom from  corruption,  and  the  independence  and  agree- 
ment of  the  several  classes  of  these,  the  Christian  contends 
for  the  existence  of  his  religion  at  the  time  when  Christ 
and  the  apostles  lived.  Ancient  writings  are  appealed  to, 
and  quotations  cited  by  various  authors  from  the  New 
Testament  are  adduced,  which  go  to  prove  the  same.  Even 
profane  history  is  made  to  furnish  contemporary  evidence 
of  the  first  rise  of  Christianity.  Now  it  is  the  way  in  which 
this  evidence  is  employed  that  is  the  point  to  be  consider- 
ed ;  the  question  is,  in  what  sense  all  this  can  be  called 
evidence  to  the  mass  of  Christians.  All  this  is,  in  short, 
■positive  proof ;  and  he  who  has  examined  manuscripts,  or 
read  the  works  in  question,  has  gone  through  the  demon- 
stration ;  but  he  who  has  not,  (and  this  is  the  case  with  all, 
making  a  very  few  exceptions,)  has  not  gone  through  the 
process  of  proof  himself,  but  takes  the  conclusion  on  the 
word  of  others.  He  believes  those  who  inform  him,  that 
they,  or  others,  have  examined  manuscripts,  read  the  fa- 
thers, compared  profane  history  with  holy  writ.  Can  this 
be  called  reasonable  faith  1  or  at  least,  do  we  not  pretend 
to  be  believing  on  proofs  of  various  kinds,  when,  in  fact, 
our  belief  rests  on  the  bare  assertions  of  others  1 

"  It  is  very  important  that  the  case  should  be  set  in  its  true 
light,  because,  supposing  the  Christian  ministry  able,  and 
at  leisure,  to  investigate  and  sift  the  Christian  evidence 
for  themselves,  the  same  cannot  be  done  by  the  barrister, 
the  physician,  the  professional  man  of  whatever  depart- 
ment besides  theology,  however  enabled  by  education  ;  and 
then,  what  is  to  be  the  lot  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people  1 
They,  clearly,  are  incompetent  even  to  follow  up  the  several 
steps  of  proof  which  each  proposition  would  require.  They 
take  it  for  granted,  if  they  apply  the  evidence  at  all,  that 
these  things  are  so,  because  wiser  persons  than  they  say  it 
is  so.  In  the  same  spirit  as  the  question  was  put  of  old 
'  Have  any  of  the  rulers  believed  on  Christ  1  but  this  people 
who  knoweth  not  the  law  are  cursed,'  Christians  must  ge- 
nerally, it  would  seem,  believe  in  Christ,  because  their 


APPENDIX.  315 

•piritual  rulers  do,  and  reject  the  infidel's  views,  because 
these  people  are  pronounced  accursed.  Nay,  the  suppo- 
sition of  the  clergy  themselves  having  the  qualification 
and  the  opportunity  to  go  through  the  process  of  proof,  is 
only  a  supposition.  They  often  want  either  or  both,  and 
it  is  impossible  that  it  should  not  be  so.  The  labour  of  a 
life  is  scarcely  sufficient  to  examine  for  one's  self  one 
branch  alone  of  such  evidence.  For  the  greater  part,  few 
men,  however  learned,  have  satisfied  themselves  by  going 
through  the  proof.  They  have  admitted  the  main  asser- 
tions, because  proved  by  others. 

"  And  is  this  conviction  then  reasonable  1  Is  it  more 
than  the  adoption  of  truth  on  the  authority  of  another  1 
It  is.  The  principle  on  which  all  these  assertions  are  re- 
ceived, is  not  that  they  have  been  made  by  this  or  that 
credible  individual  or  body  of  persons,  who  have  gone 
through  the  proof — this  may  have  its  weight  with  the  criti- 
cal and  learned — but  the  main  principle  adopted  by  all,  in- 
telligible by  all,  and  reasonable  in  itself,  is,  that  these  as- 
sertions are  set  forth,  bearing  on  their  face  a  challenge  of 
refutation.  The  assertions  are  like  witnesses  placed  in  a 
box  to  be  confronted.  Scepticism,  infidelity,  and  scoffing, 
form  the  very  groundwork  of  our  faith.  As  long  as  these 
are  known  to  exist  and  to  assail  it,  so  long  are  we  sure 
that  any  untenable  assertion  may  and  will  be  refuted.  The 
benefit  accruing  to  Christianity  in  this  respect  from  the 
occasional  success  of  those  who  have  found  flaws  in  the 
several  parts  of  evidence  is  invaluable.  We  believe  what 
is  not  disproved  most  reasonably,  because  we  know  that 
there  are  those  abroad  who  are  doing  their  utmost  to  dis- 
prove it.  We  believe  the  witness,  not  because  we  know 
him  and  esteem  him,  but  becase  he  is  confronted,  cross- 
examined,  suspected,  and  assailed  by  arts  fair  and  unfair. 
It  is  not  his  authority,  but  the  reasonableness  of  the  case 
It  becomes  conviction  well-grounded,  and  not  assent  to 
man's  words. 

"  At  the  same  time  nothing  has  perhaps  more  contribu- 
ted to  perplex  the  Christian  inquirer,  than  the  impression 
which  vague  language  creates  of  our  conviction  arising 
not  out  of  the  application  of  this  principle  to  the  external 
&nd  monumental  evidences  of  Christianity,  but  out  of  the 
examination  of  the  evidence  itself.     The  mind  feels  dls- 


3*6  APPENDIX. 

appointed  and  unsatisfied,  not  because  it  has  not  ground 
for  belief,  but  because  it  misnames  it.  The  man  who  has 
not  examined  any  branch  of  evidence  for  himself,  may, 
according  to  the  principle  above  stated,  very  reasonably 
believe  in  consequence  of  it ;  but  his  belief  does  not  arise 
immediately  out  of  it,  is  not  the  same  frame  of  mind  which 
would  be  created  by  an  actual  examination  for  himself.  It 
may  be  more,  or  it  may  be  less  a  sure  source  of  conviction  ; 
but  the  discontent  is  occasioned,  not  by  this  circumstance, 
but  by  supposing  that  it  is  one  of  these  things  that  does, 
or  ought  to,  influence  us,  when  in  fact  it  is  the  other  ;  by 
putting  ourselves  in  the  attitude  of  mind  which  belongs  to 
the  witness,  instead  of  that  which  belongs  to  the  bystander. 
We  very  well  know  how  the  unbroken  testimony  of  writers 
during  eighteen  centuries  to  the  truth  of  Christianity  ought 
to  make  us  feel,  if  we  had  ascertained  the  fact  by  an  ex- 
amination of  their  writings  ;  and  we  are  surprised  at  find- 
ing that  we  are  not  in  that  frame  of  mind,  forgetting  that 
our  use  of  the  evidence  may  be  founded  on  a  different 
pri n  c i pi e . ' ' — Hinds,  on  Jnspira Hon. 

Page  74.  EE  ] 

"Analogy  does  not  mean  the  similarity  of  two  things, 
but  the  similarity,  or  sameness  of  two  relations.  There 
must  be  more  than  two  things  to  give  rise  to  two  relations  : 
there  must  be  at  least  three  ;  and  in  most  cases  there  are 
four.  Thus  A  may  be  like  B,  but  there  is  no  analogy 
between  A  and  B :  it  is  an  abuse  of  the  word  to  speak  so, 
and  it  leads  to  much  confusion  of  thought.  If  A  has  the 
same  relation  to  B  which  C  has  to  D,  then  there  is  an 
analogy.  If  the  first  relation  be  well  known,  it  may  serve 
to  explain  the  second,  which  is  less  known:  and  the 
transfer  of  name  from  one  of  the  terms  in  the  relation  best 
known  to  its  corresponding  term  in  the  other,  causes  no 
confusion,  but  on  the  contrary  tends  to  remind  us  of  the 
similarity  that  exists  in  these  relations  ;  and  so  assists  the 
mind  instead  of  misleading  it. 

"  In  this  manner  things  most  unlike  and  discordant  in 
their  nature  may  be  strictly  analogous  to  one  another. 
Thus  a  certain  projwsiiion  may  be  called  the  basis  of  a 
system      The  proposition  is  to  the  system  what  the  basis 


APPENDIX.  317 

is  to  a  building.  It  serves  a  similar  office  and  purpose  •. 
and  this  last  relation  being  well  known,  is  of  use  to  illus- 
trate the  other  which  was  less  known.  E.  G.  The  system 
rests  upon  it:  it  is  useless  to  proceed  with  the  argument 
till  this  is  well  established  :  if  this  were  removed,  the  sys- 
tem must  fall.  The  only  cautions  requisite  in  the  use  ot 
this  kind  of  analogy  are,  first,  not  to  proceed  to  a  com- 
parison of  the  corresponding  terms  as  they  are  intrinsically 
in  themselves  or  in  their  own  nature,  but  merely  as  they 
are  in  relation  to  the  other  terms  respectively  ;  and,  se- 
condly, not  to  presume  that  because  the  relation  is  the 
same  or  similar  in  one  or  two  points,  therefore  it  is  the 
same  or  similar  in  all. 

"  The  first  of  these  errors  cannot  be  committed  in  the 
instance  before  us,  because  the  two  things  are  of  such 
different  natures  that  they  have  no  one  point  of  resem- 
blance. But  when  the  first  and  the  third  term  are  not 
only  corresponding  in  relation,  but  chance  also  to  be  of  a 
kindred  nature,  or  when,  from  the  circumstance  of  one 
being  visible  and  the  other  invisible,  their  discrepancies  do 
not  strike  us,  it  often  happens  that  a  comparison  is  pur- 
sued between  the  things  themselves,  and  this  is  one  cause 
of  the  promiscuous  use  of  the  terms  similitude  and  analogy 
As  for  example,  when  Locke,  having  once  established  ihe 
comparison,  proceeds  to  talk  of  Ideas  as  if  they  were  really 
images  in  the  mind,  or  traces  in  the  brain. 

"  It  is  from  observing  this  tendency  in  men  to  regard 
the  metaphorical  or  analogous  name  as  bringing  along  with 
it  something  of  the  nature  of  the  thing  it  originally  signi- 
fied, that  Mr.  Stewart  is  led  to  make  the  remark,  not  less 
original  than  just,  that  it  is  well  for  the  understanding, 
though  it  may  be  a  loss  to  the  fancy,  when  a  metaphorical 
word  has  lost  its  pedigree* — that  is,  when  it  no  longer 
excites  the  primary  idea  denoted  by  it,  and  is  reduced  by 
custom  to  a  plain  and  direct  appellation  in  its  secondary 
sense.      He  suggests  alsof  with  equal  ingenuity,  in  cases 

*  Philosophical  Essays,  Ess.  v.  chap.  3. 

f  Ibid.  In  the  analysis  here  given  of  analogy,  it  will  be  perceiv 
ed  by  those  who  are  conversant  with  Mr.  Stewart's  writings,  that  1 
have  ventured  to  depart  widely  from  his  use  of  the  word.  Indeed 
M.  Prevot's  etymology,  as  given  in  a  passage  quoted  with  approba« 
tion  by  Mr.  Stewart,  vol.  ii  chap.  iv.  (;4,  appears  to  me  quite  erro 
aeons.    '  La  mot  A nalogie,. dans  Vori%ine,  n'exprime  que  la  rossem* 


318  APPENDIX. 

where  words  have  not  yet  been  worn  down  to  this  use,  the 
expedient  of  varying  our  metaphor  when  speaking  of  the 
same  subject,  as  a  preservative  against  this  dangerous  and 
encroaching  error.  Of  the  utility  of  this  practice  I  have 
no  doubt :  and  I  think  it  maybe  regarded  as  an  advantage 
of  the  same  kind,  that  the  parables  of  the  New  Testament 
are  drawn  from  such  a  great  diversity  of  objects,  as  to 
check  the  propensity  in  man,  especially  in  matters  of  reli- 
gion, to  attach  some  mystical  character  to  the  images  so 
employed,  and  to  look  upon  them  as  emblems  possessing 
an  intrinsic  virtue,  or  at  least  a  secret  affinity  with  those 
spiritual  truths,  to  the  illustration  of  which  they  are  made 
subservient. 

"  When  the  points  in  which  the  similarity  of  relation 
holds  are  of  secondary  importance — when,  instead  of  being 
essential  and  characteristic,  they  are  slight  and  superficial 
— the  analogy  is  often  called  a  metaphor,  and  often  a  simi- 
litude, as  being  addressed  rather  to  the  fancy  than  to  the 
judgment,  and  intended  rather  to  adorn  and  illustrate,  than 
to  explain.  But  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  avoid  the 
name  similitude  in  these  cases,  and  to  regard  them  as 
being,  what  they  really  are,  analogies,  although  subsisting - 
in  points  of  inferior  moment. 

"  Thus  when  the  swallow  is  called  the  herald  of  sum- 
mer, or  a  ship  is  said  to  plough  the  waves,  it  is  easy  to 
resolve  the  phrase  into  the  form  of  analogy  or  proportion : 
the  swallow  is  to  the  summer  what  the  herald  is  to  his 
prince  ;  he  announces  his  approach.  So  the  action  of  a 
ship  is  to  the  sea,  what  the  action  of  a  plough  is  to  the 
land.  But  because  in  these  cases  the  relation  is  fanciful 
rather  than  real,  that  is,  it  consists  not  in  essential  points 
but  in  mere  circumstances  of  inferior  importance,  we  leave 
such  things  to  the  province  of  taste  or  amusement,  and  no 
considerate  man  ever  attempts  to  reason  from  them. 

"  *  I  am  not  of  the  mind  of  those  speculators,'  said  Mr. 
Burke,  '  who  seem  assured  that  all  states  have  the  same 
period  of  infancy,  manhood,  and  decrepitude,  that  are 
found  in  individuals.  Parallels  of  this  sort  rather  furnish 
similitudes  to  illustrate  or  to  adorn,  than  supply  analogies 
from  whence  to  reason.     The  objects  which  are  attempted 

blance.'  The  reverse  of  which  I  take  to  be  the  fact.  But  this  i» 
not  the  place  for  entering1  farther  into  discussion. 


APPENDIX  319 

to  be  forced  into  an  analogy  are  not  found  in  the  same 
classes  of  existence.  Individuals  are  physical  beings — 
commonwealths  are  not  physical  but  moral  essences.'* 

"  A  remarkable  example  of  this  kind  is  that  argument 
of  Toplady  against  free-will,  who,  after  quoting  the  text, 
Ye  also  as  lively  stones  are  built  up  a  spiritual  housej 
triumphantly  exclaims,  'This  is  giving  free-will  a  stab 
under  the  fifth  rib :  for  can  stones  hew  themselves,  and 
build  themselves  in  a  regular  house  V% 

"  Even  whem  we  attribute  to  inanimate  things  the  qua- 
lities of  animals,  the  same  analysis  may  be  adopted  as 
before.  Thus  the  rage  of  the  sea  denotes  a  similarity  of 
effect  to  the  effect  of  rage  in  animals.  This  is  even  more 
the  work  of  fancy  than  the  example  before  given  :  for  in 
reducing  it  to  the  form  of  a  proportion,  one  term  is  wholly 
supplied  by  the  imagination.  We  do  not  really  believe 
there  is  a  principle  in  the  sea  producing  these  effects,  an- 
swering to  rage  in  animals,  but  the  imagination  suggests 
such  a  principle,  and  transfers  the  name  of  rage  to  it. 

"  In  those  cases  where  the  analogy  is  traced  between 
things  perfectly  heterogeneous  there  is  little  danger  of  con- 
founding the  idea  with  that  of  similitude.  But  when  the 
subjects  we  are  comparing  are  of  a  kindred  nature,  so  that 
the  things  spoken  of  not  only  stand  in  the  same  relation, 
but  also  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  each  other,  then  it  is 
we  are  most  apt  to  confound  them  together,  and  to  substi- 
tute resemblance  for  analogy.  Thus  because  the  heart  or 
the  tooth  of  an  animal  not  only  serves  the  same  office  to 
the  animal  that  the  heart  or  the  tooth  of  a  man  does  to 
him,  but  is  also  an  object  very  nearly  resembling  it  in 
structure  and  outward  appearance,  we  are  apt  to  imagine 
that  the  same  name  is  given  to  it  solely  on  this  last  ac- 
count. But  if  we  pursue  the  inquiry  throughout  the  animal 
creation,  we  shall  find  that  the  form  of  the  coiresponding 
parts  is  infinitely  varied,  although  the  analogy  remains  the 
same  :  till  at  length  we  arrive  at  such  diversities,  that  it 
is  only  persons  conversant  with  comparative  anatomy  who 
can  readily  detect  the  analogy.  And  long  before  the  dif- 
ference has  reached  this  length  in  popular  discourse,  the 
analogical  name  is  dropped,  and  the  scientific  use  of  it  v» 

•  Letters  on  a  Regicide  Peace,  p.  4.  t  1  Pet.  ii.  6. 

t  Christian  and  Philosophical  Necessity  Asserted,  p.  66, 


32t>  APPENDIX. 

such  cases  sounds  pedantic  to  unlearned  ears.  Thus  the 
beak  of  a  bird  answers  to  the  tooth  of  man,  and  the  shel. 
of  a  lobster  to  the  bones  of  other  animals.  If  the  use  and 
office  remain  the  same,  no  diversity  of  form  impairs  the 
analogy :  but  we  ought  from  such  examples  to  learn  even 
when  similitude  of  form  does  exist,  not  to  regard  it  as  the 
true  ground  of  the  comparison  we  make,  and  of  our  affixing 
the  same  name. 

"  Thus  too  when  we  speak  of  qualities  of  things  which 
are  not  cognizable  by  our  senses  except  in  their  effects, 
we  bestow  the  same  name  on  account  of  a  real  or  supposed 
analogy,  not  on  account  of  any  similarity  in  the  qualities 
themselves,  which  may  or  may  not  exist  according  as  the 
things  ive  speak  of  are  more  or  less  of  a  kindred  nature. 
Sagacity,  courage,  fidelity,  love,  jealousy,  revenge,  are  all 
predicated  of  brute  animals  not  less  than  of  man,  although 
they  are  not  things  or  existences  in  themselves,  but  certain 
attributes  or  affections  in  them,  exhibiting  symptoms  and 
producing  effects  corresponding  with  the  symptoms  and 
effects  attendant  upon  those  qualities  in  ourselves.  In 
these  instances,  still  more  than  in  the  former,  we  are  prone 
to  confound  analogy  with  resemblance — because  as  these 
things  have  no  form  or  existence  of  their  own — as  the 
whole  essence  of  them  consists  in  their  relation  to  some 
thing  else — if  the  relations  be  alike,  the  things  are  neces- 
sarily alike,  and  we  naturally  slide  into  that  form  ol 
speaking  which  makes  no  distinction  between  analogy 
and  resemblance  :  but  even  then  we  regard  the  qualities 
as  identical,  only  in  proportion  as  the  nature  of  the  respec- 
tive subjects  to  which  they  belong  may  be  regarded  as  the 
same. 

"  The  second  error  above  noticed  as  carefully  to  be 
avoided  in  the  use  of  analogy  is,  when  we  do  not  indeed 
treat  the  corresponding  terms  as  resembling  one  another  in 
their  own  nature,  but  when  we  presume  that  a  similarity 
of  relation  subsists  in  other  paints  besides  those  which  are 
the  foundation  of  the  analogy. 

"  When  the  analogy  consists  in  slight  or  superficial  cir- 
cumstances, still  more  when  it  is  fanciful  only,  no  attempt 
whatever  should  be  made  to  reason  from  it ;  as  was  ex- 
emplified in  the  passage  produced  from  Burke's  writings : 
but  even  when  the  analogy  is  solid  and  well-founded,  we 


APPENDIX.  321 

are  liable  to  fall  into  error,  if  we  suppose  it  to  extend 
farther  than  it  really  does.  Errors  of  this  nature  are  olten 
committed  by  men  of  lively  fancies,  or  of  ardent  minds, 
and  th-ey  arc  the  more  seducing  because  they  set  out  not 
only  with  a  show  of  reason,  but  with  reason  and  truth 
actually  on  their  side. 

'•'  Thus  because  a  just  analogy  has  been  discerned  be- 
tween the  metropolis  of  a  country,  and  the  heart  in  the 
animal  body,  it  has  been  sometimes  contended  that  its 
increased  size  is  a  disease — that  it  may  impede  some  of  its 
most  important  functions — or  even  be  the  means  of  ita 
dissolution. 

"  Another  frequent  example  of  this  second  error  is  found 
in  the  use  of  the  same  titles  of  office  or  dignity  in  different 
nations  or  in  distant  times.  Although  the  relation  de- 
noted by  them  be  (he  same  in  one  or  in  several  important 
particulars,  yet  it  scarcely  ever  holds  throughout ;  and  the 
most  false  notions  are  in  consequence  entertsinedby  people 
of  the  nature  of  these  corresponding  offices  in  every  coun- 
try but  their  own.  We  have  known  what  mischief  has 
been  produced  by  the  adoption  of  the  phrase,  '  servant  of 
the  people,'  although  it  cannot  be  denied  that  in  some 
points  the  duty  of  the  magistrate  is  the  same  as  the  duty 
of  a  servant — that  his  time,  for  instance,  his  thoughts,  his 
abilities,  should  be  devoted  to  the  benefit  of  the  people — 
and  again,  on  the  other  hand,  because  the  duty  of  a  sub- 
ject towards  his  sovereign  coincides  in  many  respects  with 
the  duty  of  a  child  towards  his  parent,  some  speculative 
writers  have  hastily  concluded  that  the  institution  of  mo- 
narchy is  equally  founded  in  nature,  and  possesses  the 
same  inherent  authority  with  the  parental." — Coplcston'a 
Four  Discourses  on  the  Doctrines  of  Necessity  and  Predes- 
tination,note  to  Disc.  III.  p.  122—130. 

Page  103.   [F.] 

"  No  man  is  so  obstinate  an  admirer  of  the  old  times,  as 
to  deny  that  medicine,  surgery,  botany,  chemistry,  engi- 
neering, navigation,  are  better  understood  now  than  in 
any  former  age.  '  "We  conceive  that  it  is  the  same  with 
political  science.  Like  those  other  sciences  which  we  have 
mentioned,  it  has  always  been  working  itself  clearer  and 


322  APPENDIX. 

clearer,  and  depositing  imrurify  after  impurity.  There 
vhen  the  most  powerful  ol  human  intellects 
•  !  by  the  gibbet  Ish  of  th  I  and  the  al> 

chymisl  .  and  just  bo  the  most  en- 

lightened and  virtuous  statesmen  thought  it  the  first  duty 

ivernment  to  persecute  hen  tit  :.  to  found  : 
to  make  w  u  on  pact  as  But  time  advances,  facts  ac- 
cumulate,  doubts  arise.  Faint  glimpses  of  truth  begin  to 
appear,  and  shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  d  iv 
The  highest  intellects,  like  the  top-  ol  mountains,  are  the 
first  to  catch  and  to  reflect  the  dawn.  They  are  bright, 
while  the  level  below  ifi  Still  in  darkness.  But  soon  the 
light  which  at  first  ilium  inati  d  Dnly  the  loftiest  eminences, 

ads  on  the  plain,  and  penetrates  to  the  deepest 

First  co  ''■■ igmeuts  of  syst  ms,  then  defectivei 

systems,  then   •  omplete  and  harmonious  systems.     The 
sound  opinion,  held   for  a   time  by  one   bold   speculator, 

.  s  the  opini  i  dl  minority,  oi  a  Btrong  mi 

nority,  of  a  majority — of  mankind.     Thus,  the  grea 
gresB  goes  on,  till  schoolboys  laugh  at  th<     [argon   which 
imposed  on  Bacon — till  conn  •  ondemn   the  il- 

ty  and  int  •  "!,.,■•; 

Review.' July,  1835,  p 

"We  have  said  that  the  history  of  England  is  the  his* 
ind,  when  we  take  a  comprehensive  view 
of  it,  it  is  so.     But,  when  e  I  imined  in  small  separate  por- 
tions, it  may  with  move  propriety  be  called  ;'  history  ol 
actions  and  reactions,      we   have  often  thought  that  the 

"  of  the  public  mind  in  our  country  resembles  that  of 
.  when  the  tide  is  rising  Each  successive  wave 
rushes  forward,  breaks,  and  rolls  back  :  but  the  gre;'1 
is  steadily  coming  in  \  person  who  looked  on  the  waters 
only  foi  ■>  moment  might  fancy  that  they  were  retiring,  or 
that  they  obeyed  no  fixed  law,  but  were  rushing  capi  i< 

But  when  he  keeps  his  eye  on  them  foi  a 
quarter  of  an  bout,  and   ;  es  one  sea-mark  disappeal 
another,  it  is  impossible  foi  him  to  doubt   of  the   g 
direction  in  which  the  ocean  is  moved.  Just  Buch  has  been 
the  course  of  events  in  England*  In  the  history  ol  the  na- 
tional mind,  which  is,  in  truth,  the  history  ol  the  i 
we  must  carefully  distinguish  to  "  recoil  which  regularly 
follows  every  advance  from  a  great  general  ebb      If  w*» 


APPENDIX.  323 

take  short  intervals — if  we  compare  1640  and  1000,  inso 
and  L685,  1708  and  1712,  1782  and  1794,  we  find  a  retro- 
ion.  But  if  we  take  centuries— if,  for  example,  we 
compare  IT'.'  I  with  L660,  <>r  with  L68S — we  cannot  doubt 
in  which  direction  Bociety  ia  proceeding." — Edinb.  Re- 
view, July,  L839,  pp.  288,  289. 

This  laal  paasage  closely  resembles  one  in  the  "  Lectures 
on  Political  I  Iconomy.*' 

"Another  point  which  is  attainable  is,  to  perceive 
amidst  all  the  admixture  of  evil,  and  all  the  seeming  di  - 
order  of  conflicting  agencies,  a  general  tendency  neverthe- 
less towards  the  accomplishment  of  wise  .'Mid  beneficent 
'1 

in  contemplating  an  ebbing  tide,  we  are  sometimes 
in  doubt,  on  ;i  short  inspection,  whether  the  sea  is  r>-allv 
receding,  because,  from  time  to  time,  a  wave  will  da  h 
t  np  the  shore  than  those  which  had  preceded  it,  bttt, 
continue  our  observation  long  enough,  we  see  plainly, 
that  tin.-  boundary  of  the  land  ia  on  the  whole  advancing; 
so  here,  by  extending  our  view  over  many  countries  and 
through  several  ages,  we  may  distinctly  perceive  the  ten- 
dencies  which  would  have  escaped  a  more  confined  re- 
search."—Lect.  iv.  p.  l1"''. 

The  following,  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,*  is  an  ad 
mirable  specimen  of  illustrative  argument: — 

"  A  blade  which  is  designed  both  to  shave  and  to  carve, 
will  certainly  not  shave  so  well  us  :i  razor,  or  carve  so  well 
ns  a  carving-knife.  An  academy  <•(  painting,  which  should 
also  he  a  bank,  would  in  all  probability  exhibit  very  bad 
pictures    and   discount    vry  bad    bills.      A    gas  company, 

which  should  also  be  an  infant  school  society,  would,  we 
apprehend,  light  the  atreeta  ill,  and  teach  the  children  ill. 
<  >n  this  principle,  we  think  thai  government  should  be  or- 
ganized sol' ly  with  a  view  to  its  main  end  |   and    that  no 

part  of  its  efficiency  for  that  end  should  be  sacrificed  in 
order  to  promote  any  other  end  however  excellent. 

"  But  doee  it  follow  from  hence  that  governments  ought 
never  to  promote  any  end  other  than  their  main  end  1  In 
no  wise.  Though  it  ia  desirable  thai  every  institution 
uhould  have  a  main  end,  and  should  be  so  formed  as  to  be 
in  the  highest  degree  efficient  foe  that  main  end;  yet  il 
•  No  exxxix.  April.  1839. 


324  APPENDIX 

without  any  sacrifice  of  its  efficiency  for  that  end,  it  can 
promote  any  other  good  end,  it  ought  to  do  so.  Thus,  the 
end  for  which  a  hospital  is  built  is  the  relief  of  the  sick,  not 
the  beautifying  of  the  street.  To  sacrifice  the  health  of  the 
sick  to  splendonr  of  architectural  effect — to  place  the 
building  in  a  bad  air  only  that  it  may  present  a  more  com- 
manding front  to  a  great  public  place — to  make  the  wards 
hotter  or  cooler  than  they  ought  to  be,  in  order  that  the 
columns  and  windows  of  the  exterior  may  please  the 
passers-by,  would  be  monstrous.  But  if,  without  any 
sacrifice  of  the  chief  object,  the  hospital  can  be  made  an 
ornament  to  the  metropolis,  it  would  be  absurd  not  ta 
make  it  so. 

"  In  the  same  manner,  if  a  government  can,  without  any 
sacrifice  of  its  main  end,  promote  any  other  good  end,  it 
ought  to  do  so.  The  encouragement  of  the  fine  arts,  foi 
example,  is  by  no  means  the  main  end  of  government; 
and  it  would  be  absurd,  in  constituting  a  government,  to 
bestow  a  thought  on  the  question,  whether  it  would  be  a 
government  likely  to  train  Raphaels  and  Domenichinos. 
But  it  by  no  means  follow  that  it  is  improper  for  a  govern- 
ment to  form  a  national  gallery  of  pictures.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  patronage  bestowed  on  learned  men — of 
the  publication  of  archives — of  the  collecting  of  libraries, 
menageries,  plants,  fossils,  antiques — of  journies  and  voya- 
ges for  purposes  of  geographical  discovery  or  astronomical 
observation.  It  is  not  for  these  ends  that  government  is 
constituted.  But  it  may  well  happen  that  a  government 
may  have  at  its  command  resources  which  will  enable  it, 
without  any  injury  to  its  main  end,  to  serve  these  collate 
ral  ends  far  more  effectually  than  any  individual  or  an> 
voluntary  association  could  do.  If  so,  government  ought 
to  serve  these  collateral  ends. 

"  It  is  still  more  evidently  the  duty  of  government  to  pro« 
mote — always  in  subordination  to  its  main  end — every 
thing  which  is  useful  as  a  means  for  the  attaining  of  that 
main  end.  The  improvement  of  steam  navigation,  fo( 
example,  is  by  no  means  a  primary  object  of  government. 
But  as  steam  vessels  arc  useful  for  the  purpose  of  national 
defence,  and  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating  intercourse  be- 
tween distant  provinces,  and  thereby  consolidating  the 
force  of  the  empire,  it  may  be  the  bounden  duty  of  govern* 


APPENDIX.  325 

merit  to  encourage  ingenious  men  to  perfect  an  invention 
which  so  directly  tends  to  make  the  state  more  efficient 
for  'ts  great  primary  end. 

"  Now,  on  both  these  grounds,  the  instruction  of  the 
people  may  with  propriety  engage  the  care  of  the  govern- 
ment."—Pp.  273—27,^. 

"  We  may  illustrate  our  view  of  the  policy  which  gov- 
ernments ought  to  pursue  with  respect  to  religious  instruc- 
tion, by  recurring  to  the  analogy  of  a  hospital.  Religious 
instruction  is  not  the  main  end  for  which  a  hospital  is  built: 
and  to  introduce  into  a  hospital  any  regulations  prejudicial 
to  the  health  of  the  patients,  on  the  plea  of  promoting  their 
spiritual  improvement — to  send  a  ranting  preacher  to  a  man 
who  has  just  been  ordered  by  the  physician  to  lie  quiet  and 
try  to  get  a  little  sleep — to  impose  a  strict  observance  of 
Lent  on,  a  convalescent  who  has  been  advised  to  eat  hear- 
tily of  nourishing  food — to  direct  as  the  bigoted  Pius  the 
Fifth  actually  did,  that  no  medical  assistance  should  be 
given  to  any  person  who  declined  spiritual  attendance — 
would  be  the  most  extravagant  folly.  Yet  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  have  a  chaplain  to 
attend  the  sick,  and  to  pay  such  a  chaplain  out  of  the  hos- 
pital funds.  Whether  it  will  be  proper  to  have  such  a 
chaplain  at  all,  and  of  what  religious  persuasion  such  a 
chaplain  ought  to  be,  must  depend  on  circumstances. 
There  may  be  a  town  in  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
set  up  a  good  hospital  without  the  help  of  people  of  diffe- 
rent opinions  And  religious  parties  may  run  so  high  that, 
though  people  of  different  opinions  are  willing  to  contri- 
bute for  the  relief  of  the  sick,  they  will  not  concur  in  the 
choice  of  any  one  chaplain.  The  high  churchmen  insist 
that,  if  there  is  a  paid  chaplain,  he  shall  be  a  high  church- 
man. The  evangelicals  stickle  for  an  evangelical.  Here 
it  would  evidently  be  absurd  and  cruel  to  let  a  useful  and 
humane  design,  about  which  all  are  agreed,  fall  to  the 
ground,  because  all  cannot  agree  about  something  else. 
The  governors  must  either  appoint  two  chaplains,  and  pay 
them  both,  or  they  must  appoint  none  :  and  every  one  oi 
them  must,  in  his  individual  capacity,  do  what  he  can  for 
ihe  purpose  of  providing  the  sick  with  such  religious  in- 
struction and  consolation  as  will,  in  his  opinion,  be  most 
useful  to  them. 


326  APPENDIX. 

*'  We  should  say  the  same  of  government.  Governmenl 
is  not  an  institution  for  the  propagation  of  religion,  any 
more  than  St.  Geoge's  hospital  is  an  institution  for  the 
propagation  of  religion.  And  the  most  absurd  and  perni- 
cious consequences  would  follow,  if  government  should 
pursue,  as  its  primary  end,  that  which  can  never  be  more 
than  its  secondary  end  ;  though  intrinsically  more  impor- 
tant than  its  primary  end.  But  a  government  which  con- 
siders the  religious  instruction  of  the  people  as  a  secon- 
dary end,  and  follows  out  that  principle  faithfully,  will,  we 
think,  be  likely  to  do  much  good,  and  little  harm  " — 
Pp.  275,  276. 

Page  103,  [G.] 

"  Theirs"  (the  New-Testament- writers)  "  is  a  history  of 
miracles  ;  the  historical  picture  of  the  scene  in  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  was  poured  on  all  flesh,  and  signs  and  won 
ders,  visions  and  dreams,  were  part  of  the  essentials  of 
their  narratives.     How  is  all  this  related  1  With  the  same 
absence  of  high  colouring  and  extravagant  description  with 
which  other  writers  notice  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  the 
world  :  partly,  no  doubt,  for  the  like  reason,  that  they  were 
really  familiar  with  miracles  ;  partly,  too,  because  to  them 
these  miracles  had  long  been  contemplated  only  as  sub- 
servient measures  to  the  great  object  and  business  of  their 
ministry — the  salvation  of  men's  souls.  On  the  subject  ot 
miracles,  the  means  to  this  great  end,  they  speak  in  calm 
unimpassioned  language  ;  on  man's  sins,  change  of  heart 
on  hope,  faith,  and  charity ;   on  the  objects  in  short  to  b# 
effected,  they  exhaust  all    their  feelings   and  eloquence 
Their  history,  from  the  narrative  of  our  Lord's  persecu 
tions  to  those  of  Paul,  the  abomination  of  the  Jews,  era 
braces  scenes  and  personages  which  claim  from  the  ordi 
nary  reader  a  continual  effusion  of  sorrow  or  wonder,  c 
indignation.     In  writers  who  were  friends  of  the  parties 
and  adherents  of  the  cause  for  which  they  did  and  suffer 
ed  so  great  things,  the  absence  of  it  is,  on  ordinary  grounds 
inconceivable.   Look  at  the  acount  even  of  the  crucifixion 
Not  one  burst  of  indignation  or  sympathy  mixes  with  th« 
details  of  the  narrative.    Stephen  the  first  martyr  is  stoned 
fend   the  account  comprised  in  these  few  words,  '  the} 


APPENDIX.  327 

Btoned  Stephen  calling  upon  God,  and  saying,  Lord  Jesus, 
receive  my  spirit.'  The  varied  and  immense  labours  and 
sufferings  of  the  apostles  are  slightly  hinted  at,  or  else  re- 
lated in  this  dry  and  frigid  way.  '  And  when  they  had 
called  the  apostles,  and  beaten  them,  they  commanded 
that  they  should  not  speak  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  let 
them  go.'*  '  And  there  came  thither  certain  Jews  from 
Antioch  and  Iconium  who  persuaded  the  people,  and  having 
stoned  Paul,  drew  him  out  of  the  city,  supposing  he  had 
been  dead.  Howbeit,  as  the  disciples  stood  round  about 
him,  he  rose  up,  and  came  into  the  city  ;  and  the  next 
day  he  departed  with  Barnabas  to  Derbe.'f  Had  these  au- 
thors no  feeling  1  Had  their  mode  of  life  bereaved  them 
of  the  common  sympathies  and  sensibilities  of  human  na 
ture  1  Read  such  passages  as  St.  Paul's  parting  address  to 
the  elders  of  Miletus  ;  the  same  apostle's  recommendation 
of  the  offending  member  of  the  Corinthian  Church  to  par- 
don ;  and,  more  than  all,  the  occasional  bursts  of  conflict- 
ing feeling,  in  which  anxious  apprehension  for  the  faith 
and  good  behaviour  of  his  converts  is  mixed  with  the 
pleasing  recollection  of  their  conversion,  and  the  minister 
and  the  man  are  alike  strongly  displayed  ;  and  it  will  be 
plain  that  Christianity  exercised  no  benumbing  influence 
on  the  heart  No  :  their  whole  soul  was  occupied  with 
one  object,  which  predominated  over  all  the  means  sub- 
servient to  it,  however  great  those  means  might  be.  In 
the  storm  the  pilot's  eye  is  fixed  on  the  headland  which  must 
be  weathered  j  in  the  crisis  of  victory  or  defeat,  the  general 
sees  only  the  position  to  be  carried  ;  and  the  dead  and  the 
instruments  of  death  fall  around  hitn  unheeded.  On  the 
salvation  of  men,  on  this  one  point,  the  witnesses  of  Christ 
and  the  ministers  of  his  Spirit,  expended  all  their  energy 
of  feeling  and  expression.  All  that  occurred — mischance, 
persecution  and  miracle — were  glanced  at  by  the  eye  ol 
'aith  only  in  subserviency  to  this  mark  of  the  prize  of  their 
high  calling,  as  working  together  for  good,  and  all  exempt 
from  the  associations  which  would  attach  to  such  events 
and  scenes,  when  contemplated  by  themselves,  and  with 
the  short-sightedness  of  uninspired  men.  Miracles  were 
not  to  them  objects  of  wonder,  nor  mischances  a  subject 

*  Acts  v.  40,  4t.  f  -Acts  xiv.  19.  20. 


328  APPENDIX. 

of  sorrow  and  lamentation.     They  did  all,  they  ?  suffered 
all,  to  the  glory  of  God,"  London  Review,  No.  II.  p.  345. 

Page  150,  [H.] 

"  First,  as  to  proximity  of  time,  every  one  knows,  that 
any  melancholy  incident  is  the  more  affecting  that  it  is 
recent.  Hence  it  is  become  common  with  story-tellers, 
that  they  may  make  a  deeper  impressionon  the  hearers,  to 
introduce  remarks  like  these :  that  the  tale  which  they 
relate  is  not  old,  that  it  happened  but  lately,  or  in  theii 
own  time,  or  that  they  are  yet  living  who  had  a  part  in  it, 
or  were  witnesses  of  it.  Proximity  of  time  regards  not 
only  the  past  but  the  future.  An  event  that  will  probably 
soon  happen,  hath  greater  influence  upon  us  than  what 
will  probably  happen  a  long  time  hence.  I  have  hitherto 
proceeded  on  the  hypothesis,  that  the  orator  rouses  the 
passions  of  his  hearers,  by  exhibiting  some  past  transac 
tion  ;  but  we  must  acknowledge  that  passion  may  be  as 
strongly  eNxcited  by  his  reasonings  concerning  an  event  yet 
to  come.  In  the  judiciary  orations  there  is  greater  scope 
for  the  former,  in  the  deliberative,  for  the  latter;  though 
in  each  kind  there  may  ocsasionally  be  scope  for  both. 
All  the  seven  circumstances  enumerated  are  applicable, 
and  have  equal  weight,  whether  they  relate  to  the  future 
or  to  the  past.  The  only  exception  that  I  know  of  is,  that 
probability  and  plausibility  are  scarcely  distinguishable, 
when  used  in  reference  to  events  in  futurity.  As  in  these 
there  is  no  access  for  testimony,  what  constitutes  the  prin- 
cipal distinction  is  quite  excluded.  In  comparing  the  in 
fluence  of  the  past  upon  our  minds  with  that  of  the  future, 
it  appears  in  general,  that  if  the  evidence,  the  importance, 
and  the  distance  of  the  objects,  be  equal,  the  latter  will  be 
greater  than  the  former.  The  reason,  I  imagine,  is,  we 
are  conscious,  that  as  every  moment,  the  future,  which 
seems  placed  before  us,  is  approaching  ;  and  the  past,  which 
lies,  as  it  were,  behind,  is  retiring;  our  nearness  or  rela- 
tion to  the  one  constantly  increaseth  as  the  other  decreas- 
eth.  There  is  something  like  attraction  in  the  first  case, 
and  repulsion  in  the  second.  This  tends  to  interest  us  more 
in  the  future  than  in  the  past,  and  consequently  to  the  pre* 
Bent  view  aggrandizes  the  one,  and  diminishes  the  other 


APPENDIX.  328 

"  What,  nevertheless,  gives  the  past  a  very  considerable 
Advantage,  is  its  being  generally  susceptible  of  much 
Stronger  evidence  than  the  future.  The  lights  of  the 
mind  are,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  in  an  opposite  situa- 
tion to  the  lights  of  the  body  These  discover  clearly  the 
prospect  lying  before  us,  but  not  the  ground  we  have  al- 
ready passed.  By  the  memory,  on  the  contrary,  that 
great  luminary  of  the  mind,  things  past  are  exhibited  in 
retrospect ;  we  have  no  correspondent  faculty  to  irradiate 
the  future  ;  and  even  in  matters  which  fall  not  within  the 
reach  of  our  memory,  past  events  are  often  clearly  disco- 
verable by  testimony,  and  by  effects  at  present  existing ; 
whereas  we  have  nothing  equivalent  to  found  our  "argu- 
ments upon  in  reasoning  about  things  to  come.  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  the  future  is  considered  as  the  province  of 
conjecture  and  uncertainty. 

"  Local  connexion,  the  fifth  in  the  above  enumeration, 
hath  a  more  powerful  effect  than  proximity  of  time.  Du- 
ration and  space  are  two  things  (call  them  entities,  or  at- 
tributes, or  what  you  please)  in  some  respects  the  most 
like,  and  in  some  respects  the  most  unlike,  to  one  another. 
They  resemble  in  continuity,  divisibility,  infinity,  in  their 
being  deemed  essential  to  the  existence  of  other  things, 
and  in  the  doubts  that  have  been  raised  as  to  their  having 
a  real  or  independent  existence  of  their  own.  They  differ 
in  that  the  latter  is  permanent,  whereas  the  very  essence 
of  the  former  consisteth  in  transitoriness  ;  the  parts  of  the 
cne  are  all  successive,  of  the  other  all  co-existent.  The 
greater  portions  of  time  are  all  distinguished  by  the  me- 
morable things  which  have  been  transacted  in  them,  the 
smaller  portions  by  the  revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  : 
the  portions  of  place,  great  and  small,  (for  we  do  not  here 
consider  the  regions  of  the  fixed  stars  and  planets,)  are 
distinguished  by  the  various  tracts  of  land  and  water,  into 
which  the  earth  is  divided  and  subdivided  ;  the  one  dis- 
tinction intelligible,  the  other  sensible  ;  the  one  chiefly 
known  to  the  inquisitive,  the  other  in  a  great  measure  ob- 
vious to  all. 

"  Hence  perhap3  it  arises,  that  the  latter  is  considered  as 
a  firmer  ground  of  relation  than  the  former.  Who  is  not 
more  curious  to  kaow  the  notable  transactions  which  have 
happened  in  his  own  country  from  the  earliest  antiquity,  • 


330  appene:x 

than  to  be  acquainted  with  those  which  have  happened  ia 
the  remotest  regions  of  the  globe  during  the  century 
wherein  he  lives  1  It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  the 
former  circumstance  is  more  frequently  aided  by  that  of 
personal  relation  than  the  latter.  Connexion  of  place  not 
only  includes  vicinage,  but  every  other  local  relation,  such 
as  being  in  a  province  under  the  same  government  with  us, 
in  a  state  that  is  in  alliance  with  us,  in  a  country  well 
known  to  us,  and  the  like.  Of  the  influence  of  this  con- 
nexion in  operating  on  our  passions  we  have  daily  proofs 
With  how  much  indifference,  at  least  with  how  slight  and 
transient  emotion,  do  we  read  in  newspapers  the  accounts 
of  the  most  deplorable  accidents  in  countries  distant  and 
unknown  !  How  much,  on  the  contrary,  are  we  alarmed 
and  agitated  on  being  informed  that  any  such  accident  hath 
happened  in  our  own  neighbourhood,  and  that,  even  though 
we  be  totally  unacquainted  with  the  persons  concerned  ! 

"  Still  greater  is  the  power  of  relation  to  the  persons 
concerned,  which  was  the  sixth  circumstance  mentioned, 
as  this  tie  is  more  direct  than  that  which  attacheth  us  to 
the  scene  of  action.  It  is  the  persons,  not  the  place,  that 
are  the  immediate  objects  of  the  passions,  love  or  hatred, 
pity  or  anger,  envy  or  contempt.  Relation  to  the  actors 
commonly  produces  an  effect  contrary  to  that  produced  by 
relation  to  the  sufferers,  the  first  in  extenuation,  the  second 
in  aggravation,  of  the  crime  alleged.  The  first  makes 
for  the  apologist,  the  second  for  the  accuser.  This,  I  say, 
is  commonly  the  case,  not  always.  A  remote  relation  to 
the  actors,  when  the  offence  is  heinous,  especially  if  the 
sufferers  be  more  nearly  related,  will  sometimes  rather 
aggravate  than  extenuate  the  guilt  in  our  estimation.  But 
it  is  impossible  with  any  precision  to  reduce  these  effects 
to  rules  ;  so  much  depending  on  the  different  tempers  and 
sentiments  of  different  audiences.  Personal  relations  are 
of  various  kinds.  Some  have  generally  greater  influence 
than  others  ;  some  again  have  greater  influence  with  one 
person,  others  with  another.  They  are  consanguinity, 
affinity,  friendship,  acquaintance,  being  fellow-citizens, 
countrymen,  of  the  same  surname,  language,  religion,  oc« 
cupation,  and  innumerable  others. 

"  But  of  all  the  connexive  circumstances,  the  most  pow- 
erful is  interest,  which  is  the  last      Of  all  relations,  per- 


APPENDIX.  33 ' 

sonal  relation,  \y  bringing  the  object  very  near,  most  en« 
livens  that  sympathy  which  attaches  us  to  the  concerns  of 
others ;  interest  in  the  effects  brings  the  object,  if  I  may 
say  so,  into  contact  with  us,  and  makes  the  mind  cling  to 
it,  as  a  concern  of  its  own.  Sympathy  is  but  a  reflected 
feeling,  and  therefore,  i»  ordinary  cases,  must  be  weaker 
than  the  original.  Though  the  mirror  be  ever  so  true,  a 
lover  will  not  be  obliged  to  it  for  presenting  him  with  the 
figure  of  his  mistress,  when  he  hath  an  opportunity  of  gaz- 
ing on  her  person.  Nor  will  the  orator  place  his  chief 
confidence  in  the  assistance  of  the  social  and  sympathetic 
affections,  when  he  hath  it  in  his  power  to  arm  the  selfish 

•*  Men  universally,  from  a  just  conception  of  the  differ- 
ence, have,  when  self  is  concerned,  given  a  different  name 
to  what  seems  originally  the  same  passsion  in  a  higher 
degree.  Injury,  to  whomsoever  offered,  is  to  every  man 
that  observes  it,  and  whose  sense  of  right  is  not  debau- 
ched by  vicious  practice,  the  natural  object  of  indignation. 
Indignation  always  implies  resentment,  or  a  desire  of  re- 
taliating on  the  injurious  person,  so  far  at  least  as  to  make 
him  repent  the  wrong  he  hath  committed.  This  indigna- 
tion in  the  person  injured,  is,  from  our  knowledge  of  man- 
kind, supposed  to  be,  not  indeed  universally,  but  generally 
so  much  stronger,  that  it  ought  to  be  distinguished  by 
another  appellation,  and  is  accordingly  denominated  re- 
venge. In  like  manner,  beneficence,  on  whomsoever  ex- 
ercised, is  the  natural  object  of  our  love;  love  always  im- 
plies benevolence,  or  a  desire  of  promoting  the  happiness  of 
the  beneficent  person  ;  but  this  passion  in  the  person  bene- 
fited is  conceived  to  be  so  much  greater,  and  to  infer  so 
strong  an  obligation  to  a  return  of  good  offices  to  his  be- 
nefactor, that  it  merits  to  be  distinguished  by  the  title  gra- 
titude. Now  by  this  circumstance  of  interest  in  the  ef- 
fects, the  speaker,  from  engaging  pity  in  his  favour,  can 
proceed  to  operate  on  a  more  powerful  principle,  self-pre- 
servation. The  benevolence  of  his  hearers  he  can  work  up 
into  gratitude,  their  indignation  into  revenge. 

"  The  two  last-mentioned  circumstances,  personal  rela 
tion  and  interest,  are  not  without  influence,  as  was  hinted 
in  the  enumeration,  though  they  regard  the  speaker  only, 
and  not  ihe  hearers.  The  reason  is,  a  person  present  with 
us,  whom  we  see  and  hear,  and  who  by  words,  and  looks. 


532  APPENDIX 

and  gestures,  gives  the  "liveliest  signs  of  his  feelings,  has 
the  surest  and  most  immediate  claim  upon  our  sympathy 
We  become  infected  with  his  passions.  We  are  hurried 
along  by  them,  and  not  allowed  leisure  to  distinguish  be- 
tween his  relation  and  om  relation,  his  interest  and  our 
interest."  Campbell's  Rhetoric,  PD.  134 — 190.  (b.  i.  chap 
7.  §.  5.  parts  4,  5,  0,  7.) 

Page  151,  [I.] 

A  good  illustration  of  what  has  been  said  is  supplied  by 
the  following  extract  from  Mr.  Milman's  Bampton  Lec- 
tures, (Lecture  VI.  p.  269.)  "  Conceive  then  the  apostles 
of  Jesus  Christ,  the  tentmaker  or  the  fisherman,  entering, 
as  strangers  into  one  of  the  splendid  cities  of  Syria,  Asia 
Minor,  or  Greece.  Conceive  them,  I  mean,  as  unendowed 
with  miraculous  powers,  having  adopted  their  itinerant 
system  of  teaching  from  human  motives,  and  for  human 
purposes  alone.  As  they  pass  along  to  the  remote  and  ob- 
scure quarter,  where  they  expect  to  meet  with  precarious 
hospitality  among  their  countrymen,  ihey  survey  the 
strength  of  the  esiablished  religion,  which  it  is  their 
avowed  purpose  to  overthrow.  Every  where  they  behold 
temples  on  which  the  utmost  extravagance  of  expenditure 
has  been  lavished  by  succeeding  generations  ;  idols  of  the 
most  exquisite  workmanship,  to  which,  even  if  the  religious 
feeling  of  adoration  is  enfeebled,  the  people  are  strongly 
attached  by  national  or  local  vanity.  They  meet  proces- 
sions, in  which  the  idle  find  perpetual  occupation,  the 
young  excitement,  the  voluptuous  a  continual  stimulant  to 
their  passions.  They  behold  a  priesthood,  numerous 
sometimes  wealthy  ;  nor  are  these  alone  wedded  by  interest 
to  the  established  faith  ;  many  of  the  trades,  like  those  o; 
the  makers  of  silver  shrines  in  Ephesus,  are  pledged  to 
the  support  of  that  to  which  they  owe  their  maintenance 
They  pass  a  magnificent  theatre,  on  the  splendour  and 
success  of  which  the  popularity  of  the  existing  authorities 
mainly  depends  ;  and  in  which  the  serious  exhibitions  are 
essentially  religious,  the  lighter,  as  intimately  connected 
with  the  indulgence  of  the  baser  passions.  They  behold 
another  public  building,  where  even  worse  feelings,  the 
cruel  and  the  sanguinary,  are  pampered  by  the  animating 


APPENDIX.  333 

contests  ot  wild  beasts  and   of  gladiators,  in  which  they 
themselves  may  shortly  play  a  dreadul  part, 

Buteher'd  to  make  a  Roman  kolyday  ! 

Show  and  rpectacle  are  the  characteristic  enjoyments  of 
the  whole  people,  and  every  show  and  spectacle  is  either 
sacred  to  the  religious  feelings,  or  incentive  to  the  lusts 
of  the  flesh;  those  feelings  which  must  be  entirely  eradi- 
cated, those  lusts  which  must  be  brought  into  total  subjec- 
tion to  the  law  of  Christ.  They  encounter  likewise  itine- 
rant jugglers,  divineis,  magicians,  who  impose  upon  the 
credulous,  and  excite  the  contempt  of  the  enlightened  ;  in 
the  first  case  dangerous  rivals  to  those  who  should  attempt 
to  propagate  a  new  faith  by  imposture  and  deception ;  in 
the  latter,  naturally  tending  to  prejudice  the  mind  against 
all  miraculous  pretensions  whatever:  here,  like  Elymas, 
endeavouring  to  outdo  the  signs  and  wonders  of  the  apos- 
tles ;  there  throwing  suspicion  on  all  asserted  supernatural 
agency,  by  the  frequency  and  clumsiness  of  their  delusions. 
They  meet  philosophers,  frequently  itinerant  like  them- 
selves ;  or  teachers  of  new  religions,  priests  of  Isis  and  Se- 
rapis,  who  have  brought  into  equal  discredit  what  might 
otherwise  have  appeared  a  proof  of  philanthropy,  the  per- 
forming laborious  journeys  at  the  sacrifice  of  personal  ease 
and  comfort,  for  the  moral  and  religious  improvement  of 
mankind  ;  or  at  least  have  so  accustomed  the  public  mind 
to  similar  pretensions,  as  to  take  away  every  attraction  from 
their  boldness  or  novelty.  There  are  also  the  teachers  of 
the  different  mysteries,  which  would  engross  all  the  anxi- 
ety of  the  inquisitive,  perhaps  excite,  even  if  they  did  not 
satisfy,  the  hopes  of  the  more  pure  and  lofty  minded.  Such 
must  have  been  among  the  obstacles  which  would  force 
themselves  on  the  calmer  moments  of  the  most  ardent; 
such  the  overpowering  difficulties,  of  which  it  would  be 
impossible  to  overlook  the  importance,  or  elude  the  force  • 
which  required  no  sober  calculation  to  estimate,  no  labo 
rious  inquiry  to  discover;  which  met  and  confronted  then 
wherever  they  went,  and  which,  either  in  desperate  pre 
sumption,  or  deliberate  reliance  on  their  own  pretcrnatu 
ral  powers,  they  must  have  contemned  and  defied. 
"  The  commencement  of  their  labours  way  usu?1!?  dit 


^34  APPENDIX. 

heartening,  and  ill  calculated  to  keep  alive  the  flame  of 
ungrounded  enthusiasm.  They  begin  their  operations  in 
the  narrnw  and  secluded  synagogue  of  their  own  country- 
men. The  novelty  of  their  doctrine,  and  curiosity,  secure 
them  at  first  a  patient  attention  ;  but  as  the  more  offensive 
tenets  are  developed,  the  most  fierce  and  violent  passions 
are  awakened.  Scorn  and  hatred  are  seen  working  in  the 
clouded  brows  and  agitated  contenances  of  the  leaders  : 
if  here  and  there  one  is  pricked  to  the  heart,  it  requires 
considerable  moral  courage  to  acknowledge  his  conviction ; 
and  the  new  teachers  are  either  cast  forth  from  the  indig- 
nant assembly  of  their  own  people,  liable  to  all  the  pun- 
ishments which  they  are  permitted  to  inflict,  scourged 
and  beaten;  or,  if  they  succeed  in  forming  a  party,  they 
give  rise  to  a  furious  schism ;  and  thus  appear  before  the 
heathen  with  the  dangerous  notoriety  of  having  caused  a 
violent  tumult,  and  broken  the  public  peace  by  their^  tur- 
bulent and  contentious  harangues  :  at  all  events,  disclaimed 
by  that  very  people  on  whose  traditions  they  profess  to  build 
their  doctines,  and  to  whose  Scriptures  they  appeal  in  jus- 
tification of  their  pretensions.  They  endure,  they  persevere, 
they  continue  to  sustain  the  contest  against  Judaism  and 
paganism.  It  is  still  their  deliberate,  ostensible,  and 
avowed  object  to  overthrow  all  this  vast  system  of  Idola- 
try ;  to  tear  up  by  the  roots  all  ancient  prejudices ;  to  si- 
lence shrines,  sanctified  by  the  veneration  of  ages  as  ora- 
cular;  to  consign  all  those  gorgeous  temples  to  decay,  and 
all  those  images  to  contempt ;  to  wean  the  people  from 
every  barbarous  and  dissolute  amusement."*  ******* 
"But  in  one  respect  it  is  impossible  now  to  conceive 
the  extent,  to  which  the  apostles  of  the  crucified  Jesus 
shocked  all  the  feelings  of  mankind.  The  public  estab- 
lishment of  Christianity  the  adoration  of  ages,  the  reve- 
rence of  nations,  has  thrown  around  the  cross  of  Christ  an 
indelible  and  inalienable  sanctity.  No  effort  of  the  ima- 
gination can  dissipate  the  illusion  of  dignity  which  has 
gathered  round  it ;  it  has  been  so  long  dissevered  from  all 
its  coarse  and  humiliating  associations,  that  it  cannot  be 
Cast  back  and  desecrated  into  its  state  of  opprobrium  and 
contempt.  To  the  most  Oaring  unbeliever  among  our- 
selves, it  is  the  symbol,  the  absurd,  and  irrational,  he  may 
conceive,  but  still  the  ancient  and  venerable  symbol  of  s 


APPENDIX.  335 

powerful  and  influential  religion :  what  was  it  to  the  Jew 
and  to  the  heathen  1  the  basest,  the  most  degrading  punish- 
ment of  the  lowest  criminal!  the  proverbial  terror  of  the 
wretched  slave  !  It  was  to  them,  what  the  most  despica- 
ble and  revolting  instrument  of  public  execution  is  to  us. 
y<at  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  men  turned  from  deities  in 
which  were  embodied  every  attribute  of  strength,  power, 
and  dignity ;  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  mul- 
titudes gave  up  the  splendour,  the  pride,  and  the  power  of 
paganism,  to  adore  a  Being  who  was  thus  humiliated  be- 
neath the  meanest  of  mankind,  who  had  become,  ac- 
cording to  the  literal  interpretation  of  the  prophecy,  a  very 
scorn  of  men,  and  an  outcast  of  the  people."  Ibid.  p.  279. 

Page  155,  [K.] 

"  Such  is  our  yoke  and  our  burden  !  Let  him,  who  has 
thought  it  too  hard  and  to  heavy  to  bear,  be  prepared  to 
state  it  boldly  when  he  shall  appear  side  by  side  with  the 
poor  and  mistaken  Indian  before  the  throne  of  God  at  the 
day  of  judgment.  The  poor  heathen  may  come  forward 
with  his  wounded  limbs  and  weltering  body,  saying,  *  I 
thought  thee  an  austere  master,  delighting  in  the  miseries 
of  thy  creatures,  and  I  have  accordingly  brought  thee  the 
torn  remnants  of  a  body  which  I  have  tortured  in  thy 
service.'  And  the  Christian  will  come  forward,  and  say, 
'  I  knew  that  thou  didst  die  to  save  me  from  such  suffer 
ings  and  torments,  and  that  thou  only  commandest  me  to 
keep  my  body  in  temperance,  soberness  and  chastity,  and 
I  thought  it  too  hard  for  me  ;  and  I  have  accordingly 
brought  thee  the  refuse  and  sweepings  of  a  body  that  has 
been  corrupted  and  brutalized  in  the  service  of  profligacy 
and  drunkenness — even  the  body  which  thou  didst  declare 
should  be  the  temple  of  thy  Holy  Spirit.'  The  poor  In- 
dian, will,  perhaps,  show  his  hands,  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  his  children,  saying,  '  I  thought  this  was  the  sac- 
rifice with  which  God  was  well  pleased  :'  and  you,  the 
Christian  will  come  forward  with  blood  upon  thy  hands 
also,  'I  knew  that  thou  gavest  thy  son  for  my  sacrifice, 
and  commandest  me  to  lead  my  offspring  in  the  way  of 
everlasting  life  ;  but  the  command  was  too  hard  for  me, 
to  teach  them  thy  statutes  and  to  set  them  my  humble  ex* 


336  APPENDIX. 

ample  :  I  have  let  them  go  the  broad  way  to  destruction, 
and  their  blood  is  upon  my  hand — and  my  heart — and  my 
head.'  The  Indian  will  come  forward,  and  say, '  behold  I 
am  come  from  the  wood,  the  desert,  and  the  wilderness, 
where  I  fled  from  the  cheerful  society  of  my  fellow  mor- 
tals, because  I  thought  it  was  pleasing  in  thy  sight.'  And 
the  Christian  will  come  forward,  and  say,  '  Behold  I  come 
from  my  comfortable  home  and  the  communion  of  my 
brethren,  which  thou  hast  graciously  permitted  me  to  en- 
joy ;  but  I  thought  it  too  hard  to  give  them  a  share  of  those 
blessings  which  thou  hast  bestowed  upon  me ;  I  thoughi 
it  too  hard  to  give  them  a  portion  of  my  time,  my  trouble, 
my  fortune  or  my  interest  ;  I  thought  it  too  hard  to  keep 
my  tongue  from  cursing  and  reviling,  my  heart  from  hi 
tred,  and  my  hand  from  violence  and  revenge.'  What  will 
be  the  answer  of  the  Judge  to  the  poor  Indian  none  can 
presume  to  say.  That  he  was  sadly  mistaken  in  the  means 
of  salvation,  and  that  what  he  had  done  could  never  pur- 
chase him  everlasting  life,  is  beyond  a  doubt ;  but  yet  the 
Judge  may  say,  'Come  unto  me,  thou  heavy-laden,  and  I 
will  give  thee  the  rest  which  thou  couldst  not  purchase  for 
thyself.'  But,  to  the  Christian,  '  Thou,  who  hadst  my 
easy  yoke,  and  my  light  burden  ;  thou,  for  whom  all  was 
already  purchased  : Thank  God  !  it  is  not  yet  pro- 
nounced:— begone  !  and  fly  for  thy  life  !' "  Wolffs  Ser- 
mons {Remains,)  Sermon  X.  pp.  371 — 373. 

"  Suppose  it  were  suddenly  revealed  to  any  one  among 
you  that  he,  and  he  alone,  of  all  that  walk  upon  the  face 
of  this  earth,  was  destined  to  receive  the  benefit  of  his 
Redeemer's  atonement,  and  that  all  the  rest  of  mankind 
was  lost — and  lost  to  all  eternity  :  it  is  hard  to  say  wha1 
would  be  the  first  sensation  excited  in  that  man's  mind  by 
the  intelligence.  It  is  indeed  probable  it  would  be  joy — 
to  think  that  all  his  fears  respecting  his  eternal  destiny 
were  now  no  more  ;  that  all  the  forebodings  of  the  mind 
and  misgivings  of  the  heart — all  the  solemn  stir  vfhich  we 
feel  rising  within  us  whenever  we  look  forward  to  a  dark 
futurity — to  feel  that  all  these  had  now  subsided  for  ever 
— to  know  that  he  shall  stand  in  the  everlasting  sunshine 
of  the  love  of  God  !  It  is  perhaps  impossible  that  all  this 
tmould  not  call  forth  an  immediate  feeling  of  delight:  but 
if  you  wish  the  sensation  to  continue,  you  must  go  to  thv» 


APPENDIX  33- 

wJderness  ;  you  must  beware  hew  you  3ome  within  sight 
of  a  human  being-,  or  within  sound  of  a  human  voice  ;  you 
must  recollect  that  you  are  now  alone  upon  the  earth  ;  or, 
if  you  want  society,  you  had  better  look  for  it  among  the 
beasts  of  the  field  than  among  the  ruined  species  to  which 
you'b&long;  unless  indeed  the  Almighty,  in  pity  to  your 
desolation,  should  send  his  angels  before  the  appointed 
time,  that  you  might  learn  to  forget  in  their  society  the 
outcast  objects  of  your  former  sympathies.  But  to  go. 
abroad  into  human  society — to  walk  amongst  Beings  who 
are  now  no  longer  your  fellow-creatures — to  feel  the  char- 
ity of  your  common  nature  rising  in  your  heart,  and  to 
have  to  crush  it  within  you  like  a  sin — to  reach  forth  your 
hand  to  perform  one  of  the  the  common  kindnesses  of  hu- 
manity, and  to  find  it  withered  by  the  recollection,  that 
however  you  may  mitigate  a  present  pang,  the  everlasting 
pang  is  irreversible  ;  to  turn  away  in  despair  from  these 
children  whom  you  have  now  come  to  bless  and  to  save 
(we  hope  and  trust  both  here  and  for  ever  !) — perhaps  it 
would  be  too  much  for  you;  at  all  events,  it  would  be 
hard  to  state  a  degree  of  exertion  within  the  utmost  range 
of  human  energy,  or  a  degree  of  pain  within  the  farthest 
limit  of  human  endurance,  to  which  you  would  not  submit, 
that  you  might  have  one  companion  on  your  lonely  way 
from  this  world  to  the  mansions  of  happiness.  But  suppose, 
at  that  moment,  that  the  angel  who  brought  the  first  intel- 
ligence returns  to  tell  you  that  there  are  Beings  upon  this 
earth  who  may  yet  be  saved — that  he  was  before  mistaken, 
no  matter  how — perhaps  he  was  your  guardian  angel,  and 
darted  from  the  throne  of  grace  with  the  intelligence  of 
your  salvation  without  waiting  to  hear  the  fate  of  the  rest 
of  mankind — no  matter  how — but  he  comes  to  tell  you 
that  there  are  Beings  upon  the  earth  who  are  within  the 
reach  of  your  Redeemer's  love,  and  of  your  own — that 
some  of  them  are  now  before  you,  and  their  everlasting 
destiny  is  placed  in  your  hands  ;  then,  what  would  first 
occur  to  your  mind1? — privations — dangers — difficulties'? 
No  ;  but  you  would  say,  Lord,  what  shall  I  do  1  shall  I 
traverse  earth  and  sea,  through  misery  and  torment,  that  of 
those  whom  thou  hast  given  me  I  myy  not  lose  one  V 
Ibid.  Serm.  XI.  pp.  391—393. 
86 


338  APPENDIX 


Page  191,  [L.] 

In  Dr.  Campbell's  ingenious  dissertation  {Rhetoric,  book 
li.  ch.  vii.)  "  on  the  causes  that  nonsense  often  escapes 
being  detected,  both  by  the  writer  and  the  reader,"  he  re- 
marks, (sec.  2.)  that  "  there  are  particularly  three  sorts  oi 
writing,  wherein  we  are  liable  to  be  imposed  upon  by 
words  without  meaning." 

"  The  first  is,  where  there  is  an  exuberance  of  metaphor. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  this  trope,  when  tern 
perately  and  appositely  used,  serves  to  add'  light  to  the 
expression,  and  energy  to  the  sentiment.  On  the  contrary, 
when  vaguely  and  intemperately  used,  nothing  can  serve 
more  effectually  to  cloud  the  sense,  where  there  is  sense, 
and  by  consequence  to  conceal  the  defect,  where  there  is 
no  sense  to  show.  And  this  is  the  case,  not  only  where 
there  is  in  the  same  sentence  a  mixture  of  discordant  me- 
taphors, but  also  where  the  metaphoric  style  is  too  long 
continued,  and  too  far  pursued.  [  Ut  modicus  autem  atque 
opportunus  translationis  usas  illustrat  orationem  :  ita  fre- 
quents, et  obscurat  et  tcedio  complet  ;  continuus  vero  in  alle- 
goriam  et  cenigmata  exit.  Quint,  lib.  viii.  c.  vi.]  The 
reason  is  obvious.  In  common  speech  the  words  are  the 
immediate  signs  of  the  thought.  But  it  is  not  so  here  ; 
for  when  a  person,  instead  of  adopting  metaphors  that 
come  naturally  and  opportunely  in  his  way,  rummages  the 
whole  world  in  quest  of  them,  and  piles  them  one  upon 
another,  when  he  cannot  so  properly  be  said  to  use  meta- 
phor, as  to  talk  in  metaphor,  or  rather,  when  from  meta- 
phor he  runs  into  allegory,  and  thence  into  enigma,  bis 
words  are  not  the  immediate  signs  of  his  thought ;  they 
are  at  best  but  the  signs  of  the  signs  of  his  thought.  His 
writing  may  then  be  called,  what  Spenser  not  unjustly 
styled  his  Fairy  Queen,  a  perpetual  allegory  or  dark  con- 
ceit. Most  readers  will  account  it  much  to  bestow  a  tran- 
sient glance  on  the  literal  sense,  which  lies  nearest ;  but 
will  never  think  of  that  meaning  more  remote,  which  the 
figures  themselves  are  intended  to  signify.  It  is  no  wonder 
then  that  this  sense,  for  the  discovery  of  which  it  is  neces- 
sary to  see  through  a  double  veil,  should,  where  it  is,  mora 


APPENDIX.  339 

readily  escape  our  observation,  and  that  where  it  is  wanting 
we  should  not  so  quickly  miss  it."  ********** 
"  There  is,  in  respect  of  the  two  meanings,  considerable 
variety  to  be  found  in  the  tropical  Style.  In  just  allegory 
and  similitude  there  is  always  a  propriety,  or,  if  you  choose 
to  call  it,  congruity,  in  the  literal  sense,  as  well  as  a  dis- 
tinct meaning  or  sentiment  suggested,  which  is  called  the 
figurative  sense.  Examples  of  this  are  unnecessary.  Again, 
whe-re  the  figurative  sense  is  unexceptionable,  there  is 
sometimes  an  incongruity  in  the  expression  of  the  literal 
sense.  This  is  always  the  case  in  mixed  metaphor,  a  thing 
not  unfrequent  even  in  good  writers.  Thus,  when  Addi- 
son remarks  that  '  there  is  not  a  single  view  of  human  na- 
ture, which  is  not  sufficient  to  extinguish  the  seeds  of  pride,' 
he  expresses  a  true  sentiment  somewhat  incongruously  ; 
for  the  the  terms  extinguish  and  seeds  here  metaphorically 
used,  do  not  suit  each  other.  In  like  manner,  there  is 
something  incongruous  in  the  mixture  of  tropes  employed 
in  the  following  passage  from  Lord  Bolingbroke  :  '  Nothing 
less  than  the  hearts  of  his  people  will  content  a  patriot 
Prince,  nor  will  he  think  his  throne  established,  till  it  is 
established  there.'  Yet  the  thought  is  excellent.  But  in 
neither  of  these  examples  does  the  incongruity  of  the  ex- 
pression hurt  the  perspicuity  of  the  sentence.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  literal  meaning  involves  a  direct  absurdity 
When  this  is  the  case,  as  in  the  quotation  from  The  prin- 
ciples of  Painting  given  in  the  preceding  chapter,  it  is  na- 
tural for  the  reader  to  suppose  that  there  must  be  some- 
thing under  it ;  for  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how  absurdly  even 
just  sentiments  will  sometimes  be  expressed.  But  when 
no  such  hidden  sense  can  be  discovered,  what,  in  the  first 
view  conveyed  to  our  minds  a  glaring  absurdity,  is  rightly 
on  reflection  denominated  nonsense.  We  are  satisfied 
that  De  Piles  neither  thought,  nor  wanted  his  readers  to 
think,  that  Rubens  was  really  the  original  performer,  and 
God  the  copier.  This  then  was  not  his  meaning.  But 
what  he  actually  thought  and  wanted  them  to  think,  it  is 
impossible  to  elicit  from  his  words.  His  words  then  may 
justly  be  styled  bold,  in  respect  of  their  literal  import,  but 
unmeaning  in  respect  of  the  author's  intention. 

**It  may  be  proper  here  to  observe,  that  some  are  apt 


$40  APPENDIX. 

to  confound  the  terms  absurdity  and  nonsense  as  synony. 
mous;  which  they  manifestly  are  not.  An  absurdity,  in 
the  strict  acceptation,  is  a  proposition  either  intuitively  of 
demonstratively  false.  Of  this  kind  are  these:  'Three 
and  two  make  seven.'  '  All  the  angles  of  a  triangle  are 
greater  than  two  right  angles.'  That  the  former  is  false 
we  know  by  intuition ;  that  the  latter  is  so,  we  are  able  to 
demonstrate.  But  the  term  is  further  extended  to  denote 
a  notorious  falsehood.  If  one  should  affirm,  that  at  the 
vernal  equinox  the  sun  rises  in  the  north  and  sets  in  the 
south,'  we  should  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  he  advances  an 
absurdity  ;  but  still  what  he  affirms  has  a  meaning  ;  inso 
much,  that  on  hearing  the  sentence  we  pronounce  its  fal- 
sity. Now  nonsense  is  that  whereof  we  cannot  say  either 
that  it  is  true,  or  that  it  is  false.  Thus,  when  the  Teuto- 
nic Theosopher  enounces,  that  'all  the  voices  of  the  ce 
lestial  joyfulness,  qualify,  commix,  and  harmonize  in  the 
fire  which  was  from  eternity  in  the  good  quality,'  I  should 
think  it  equally  impertinent  to  aver  the  falsity  as  the  truth 
of  this  enunciation.  For,  though  the  words  grammatically 
form  a  sentence,  they  exhibit  to  the  understanding  no 
judgment,  and  consequently  admit  neither  assent  nor  dis- 
sent. In  the  former  instances  I  say  the  meaning,  or  what 
they  affirm,  is  absurd ;  in  the  last  instance  I  say  there  is 
no  meaning,  and  therefore  properly  nothing  is  affirmed. 
In  popular  language,  I  own,  the  terms  absurdity  and  non- 
sense are  not  so  accurately  distinguished.  Absurd  posi- 
tions are  sometimes  called  nonsensical.  It  is  not  common, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  say  of  downright  nonsense,  that  it 
comprises  an  absurdity. 

"Further,  in  the  literal  sense  there  may  be  nothing  un- 
suitable, and  yet  the  reader  may  be  at  a  loss  to  find  a 
figurative  meaning,  to  which  his  expressions  can  with 
justice  be  applied.  Writers  immoderately  attached  to  the 
florid,  or  highly  figured  diction,  are  often  misled  by  a  de- 
sire, of  flourishing  on  the  several  attributes  of  a  metaphor 
which  they  have  pompously  ushered  into  the  discourse, 
without  taking  the  trouble  to  examine  whether  there  be 
any  qualities  in  the  subject,  to  which  these  attributes  can 
with  justice  and  perspicuity  be  applied.  This  immoderate 
use  of  metaphor,"  Dr.  Campbell  observes,  "is  the  princi 
pal  source  of  all  the  nonsense  of  Orators  and  Poets 


APPENDIX.  341 

•*  The  second  species  of  writing  wherein  we  are  liable 
Lc?  be  imposed  on  by  words  without  meaning,  is  that 
wherein  the  terms  most  frequently  occurring,  denote 
things  which  are  of  a  complicated  nature,  and  to  which 
the  mind  is  not  sufficiently  familiarized.  Many  of  those 
notions  which  are  called  by  Philosophers  mixed  modes, 
come  under  this  denomination.  Of  these,  the  instances 
are  numerous  in  every  tongue  :  such  as  government,  church, 
state,  constitution,  polity,  power,  commerce,  legislature,  ju- 
risdiction, proportion,  symmetry,  elegance.  It  will  consi- 
derably increase  the  danger  of  our  being  deceived  by  an 
unmeaning  use  of  such  terms,  if  they  are  besides  (as  very 
often  they  are)  of  so  indeterminate,  and  consequently 
equivocal,  signification,  that  a  writer,  unobserved  either  by 
himself  or  by  his  reader,  may  slide  from  one  sense  of  the 
term  to  another,  till  by  degrees  he  fall  into  such  applica- 
tions of  it  as  will  make  no  sense  at  all.  It  deserves  our 
notice  also,  that  we  are  in  much  greater  danger  of  termi- 
nating in  this,  if  the  different  meanings  of  the  same  word 
have  some  affinity  to  one  another,  than  if  they  have  none. 
In  the  latter  case,  when  there  is  no  affinity,  the  transition 
from  one  meaning  to  another  is  taking  a  very  wide  step, 
and  what  few  writers  are  in  any  danger  of;  it  is,  besides, 
what  will  not  so  readily  escape  the  observation  of  the 
reader.  So  much  for  the  second  cause  of  deception,  which 
is  the  chief  source  of  all  the  nonsense  of  writers  on  politics 
and  criticism. 

"  The  third  and  last,  and,  I  may  add,  the  principal  spe- 
cies of  composition,  wherein  we  are  exposed  to  this  illu- 
sion by  the  abuse  of  words,  is  that  in  which  the  terms  em- 
ployed are  very  abstract,  and  consequently  of  very  exten- 
sive signification.  It  is  an  observation  that  plainly  ariscth 
from  the  nature  and  structure  of  language,  and  may  be  de- 
duced as  a  corollary  from  what  hath  been  said  of  the  use 
of  artificial  signs,  that  the  more  general  any  name  is,  as  it 
comprehends  the  more  individuals  under  it,  and  conse- 
quently requires  the  more  extensive  knowledge  in  the 
mind  that  would  rightly  apprehend  it,  the  more  it  must 
have  of  indistinctness  and  obscurity.  Thus  the  word  lion 
is  more  distinctly  apprehended  by  the  mind  than  the  word 
beast,  beast  than  animal,  animal  than  being.     But  there  is 


342  APPENDIX. 

m  what  are  called  abstract  subjects,  a  still  greater  fund 
01  obscurity,  than  that  arising  from  the  frequent  mention 
of  the  most  general  terms.  Names  must  be  assigned  to 
those  qualities  as  considered  abstractedly,  which  never 
subsist  independently,  or  by  themselves,  but  which  consti- 
tute the  generic  characters  and  the  specific  differences  of 
things.  And  this  leads  to  a  manner  which  is  in  many  in- 
stances remote  from  the  common  use  of  speech,  and  there- 
fore must  be  of  more  difficult  conception."  (Book  ii.  sec.  2. 
pp.  102,  103.) 

It  is  truly  to  be  regretted  that  an  author  who  has  written 
so  justly  on  this  subject,  should,  within  a  few  pages,  so 
strikingly  exemplify  the  errors  he  has  been  treating  of,  by 
indulging  in  a  declamation  against  Logic,  which  could 
not  even  to  himself  have  conveyed  any  distinct  meaning. 
When  he  says  that  a  man  who  had  learned  Logic  was 
"  qualified,  without  any  other  kind  of  knowledge,  to  de- 
fend any  position  whatever,  however  contradictory  to  com- 
mon sense  ;"  and  that  "  that  art  observed  the  most  abso- 
lute indifference  to  truth  and  error,"  he  cannot  mean  that 
a  false  conclusion  could  be  logically  proved  from  true  pre- 
mises; since  ignorant  as  he  was  of  the  subject,  he  was 
aware,  and  has  in  another  place  distinctly  acknowledged, 
that  this  is  not  the  case  ;  nor  could  he  mean  merely  that  a 
false  conclusion  could  be  proved  from  a  false  premiss,  since 
that  would  evidently  be  a  nugatory  and  ridiculous  objection. 
He  seems  to  have  had,  in  truth,  no  meaning  at  all ;  though 
like  the  authors  he  had  been  so  ably  criticising,  he  was  per- 
fectly unaware  of  the  emptiness  of  what  he  was  saying. 

Page  222,  [M.] 

''Moses  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  the  waters  were 
divided,  and  became  a  wall  unto  the  children  of  Israel  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left.  Moses  smote  the  rock 
with  his  rod,  and  the  waters  flowed  withal,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  weie  refreshed  in  the  wilderness,  and  were 
saved  from  death.  But  what  was  there  in  the  arm  ,of 
Moses,  that  the  sea  should  obey  it  and  stand  still  1  Or 
what  in  the  rod  ol'  Moses,  that  it  should  turn  the  flinty 
rock  into  a  living  fountain  1     Let  me  freely,  though  revc- 


APPENDIX.  343 

gently  speak  to  you  of  the  patriarch  Moses.  He  was  in- 
deed great,  because  he  was  indeed  'good,  in  his  genera- 
tion. But  except  in  the  matter  of  his  goodness — except 
in  his  superior  faith  and  trust  in  his  Maker — except  in  his 
more  ready  obedience  to  the  holy  desires  which  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  inspired  into  his  soul,  he  was  no  more  than 
the  rest  of  the  Israelites,  and  the  rest  of  men.  Like  them, 
like  us,  like  every  human  being  that  is  born  of  woman,  he 
was  ccmpassed  with  infirmities,  and  tried  with  afflictions, 
and  subject  to  terror,  and  surrounded  with  sorrow.  Of 
himself  he  was  able  to  do  nothing,  but  all  the  mighty  acts 
which  he  did,  he  did  because  'it  was  God  which  worked 
in  him  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure,'  and 
because  Moses  did  not  resist  the  will  of  God,  or  neglect  or 
abuse  the  power  with  which  he  was  endued.  If  to  the 
Jew  God  was  very  liberal,  we  have*he  promise  of  his 
beloved  Son,  that  to  Christians,  in  all  spiritual  and  neces- 
sary things,  he  will  be  still  more  so.  Over  the  world 
without  us  he  will  perhaps  give  us  no  power — because  we 
are  not  called  upon  to  save  a  people.  But  we  are  called 
upon  to  save  ourselves,  and  he  will  give  us  a  power  over 
the  rebellious  world  that  is  within  us.  Stretch  forth  but 
your  hands  in  faith  and  sincerity  to  God,  and  surely  he 
will  separate  between  you  and  your  lusts.  He  will  divide 
the  tumurtuous  sea  of  your  passions,  and  open  for  you  a 
way  to  escape  from  your  enemies  into  the  land  of  eternity. 
He  will  cause  the  waves  thereof  to  stand  still  and  harmless 
on  your  right  hand  and  on  your  left,  and  make  you  to  walk 
in  safety  and  unhurt  through  the  overflowings  of  ungodli- 
ness, which,  without  his  controlling  arm,  would  have 
drowned  your  souls  in  perdition  and  destruction.  Be  ye 
never  so  faint  and  weary  in  the  wilderness  of  sin,  yet  if 
in  humility  you  smite  upon  your  breast,  and  say,  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner !  he  will  melt  the  stony  heart 
within  you,  and  turning  it  into  a  fountain  of  piety  and  love 
—of  love  to  man  and  love  to  your  Maker — refresh  you 
with  the  living  waters  of  the  comfort  of  the  Spirit,  and 
strengthen  you  by  its  power  for  your  pilgrimage  through 
life."  Benson's  First  Course  of  Hidsean  Lectures  for 
1820.  .  Lect.  XIV.  pp.  344—346. 


344  APPENDIX 


Page  262,  [N.] 

"  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  desirous  of  getting 
over  their  bad  habits,  and  discharging  that  important  part 
of  the  sacred  office,  the  Reading  the  Liturgy  with  due  de- 
corum, I  shall  first  enter  into  a  minute  examination  of 
some  parts  of  the  Service,  and  afterwards  deliver  the  rest, 
accompanied  by  such  marks  as  will  enable  the  reader,  in  a 
short  time,  and  with  moderate  pains,  to  make  himself  mas- 
ter of  the  whole. 

"  But  first,  it  will  be  necessary  to  explain  the  marks 
which  you  will  hereafter  see  throughout  the  rest  of  this 
course.  They  are  of  two  kinds  ;  one,  to  point  out  the  em- 
phatic words,  for  which  I  shall  use  the  Grave  accent  of 
the  Greek,  f]. 

"  The  other  to  point  out  the  different  pauses  or  stops, 
for  which  I  shall  use  the  following  marks : 

"  For  the  shortest  pause,  marking  an  incomplete  line, 
thus'. 

"  For  the  second,  double  the  time  of  the  former  two' 

"And  for  the  third  or  full  stop,  three'". 

"  "When  I  would  mark  a  pause  longer  than  any  belong 
ing  to  the  usual  stops,  it  shall  be  by  two  horizontal  lines 
as  thus  =. 

"  "When  I  would  point  out  a  syllable  that  is  to  be  dwelt 
on  some  time,  I  shall  use  this  -,  or  a  short  horizontal  ovei 
the  Syllable. 

"  "When  a  Syllable  should  be  rapidly  uttered,  thus", 
or  a  curve  turned  upwards ;  the  usual  marks  of  long  and 
short  in  Prosody. 

"  The  exhortation  I  have  often  heard  delivered  in  the 
following  manner: 

"  '  Dearly  beloved  brethren,  the  Scripture  moveth  us  in 
sundry  places  to  acknowledge  and  confess  our  manifold 
cins  and  wickedness.  And  that  we  should  not  dissemble 
nor  cloke  them  before  the  face  of  Almighty  God  our 
Heavenly  Father,  but  confess  them  with  an  humble,  lowly, 
penitent  and  obedient  heart,  to  the  end  that  we  may  ob- 
tain forgiveness  of  the  same,  by  his  infinite  goodness  and 
mercy.     And  although  we  ought  at  all  times  humbly  ta 


APPENDIX.  345 

acknowledge  our  sins  before  God,  yet  ought  we  most 
chiefly  so  to  do,  when  we  assemble  and  meet  together. 
To  render  thanks  for  the  great  benefits  we  have  received 
at  his  hands,  to  set  forth  his  most  worthy  praise,  to  hear 
his  most  holy  word,  and  to  ask  those  things  that  are 
requisite  and  necessary,  as  well  for  the  body  as  the  soul. 
Wherefore  I  pray  and  beseech  you,  as  many  as  are  here 
present,  to  accompany  me  with  a  pure  heart  and  humble 
voice  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly  grace,  saying  after  me.' 

"  In  the  latter  part  of  the  first  period,  '  but  confess  them 
with  an  humble,  lowly,  penitent  and  obedient  heart,  to  the 
end  that  we  may  obtain  forgiveness  of  the  same,  by  his  in- 
finite goodness  and  mercy,'  there  are  several  faults  commit' 
ted.  In  the  first  place,  the  four  epithets  preceding  the  word 
'  heart,'  are  huddled  together,  and  pronounced  in  a  mono- 
tone, disagreeable  to  the  ear,  and  enervating  to  the  sense  ; 
whereas  each  word  rising  in  force  above  the  other,  ought 
to  be  marked  by  a  proportional  rising  of  the  notes  in  the 
voice  ;  and,  in  the  last,  there  should  be  such  a  note  used 
as  would  declare  it  at  the  same  time  to  be  the  last — '  with 
an  humble  lowly'  penitent  and  obedient  heart,'  &c.  At 
first  view  it  may  appear,  that  the  words  '  humble'  and 
*  lowly'  are  synonomous  ;  but  the  word  '  lowly,'  certainly 
implies  a  greater  degree  of  humiliation  than  the  word 
'  humble.'  The  word  '  penitent'  that  follows,  is  of  strong- 
er import  than  either  ;  and  the  word  *  obedient,'  signify- 
ing a  perfect  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  in  consequence 
of  oar  humiliation  and  repentance,  furnishes  the  climax. 
But  if  the  climax  in  the  words  be  not  accompanied  by  a 
suitable  climax  in  the  notes  of  the  voice,  it  cannot  be  made 
manifest.  In  the  following  part  of  the  sentence,  '  to  the 
end  that  we  may  obtain7  forgiveness  of  the  same'  there 
are  usually  three  emphases  laid  on  the  words,  end,  obtain^ 
same,  where  there  should  not  be  any,  and  the  only  empha- 
tic word,  forgiveness,  is  slightly  passed  over  ;  whereas  it 
should  be  read — '  to  the  end  that  we  may  obtain  forgive- 
ness of  the  same,'  keeping  the  words,  obtain,  and  forgive- 
ness, closely  together,  and  not  disuniting  them,  both  to  the 
prejudice  of  the  Sense  and  Cadence,  &c.  &c. 

"  I  shall  now  read  the  whole,  in  the  manner  I  have  re- 
commended ;  and  if  you  will  give  attention  to  the  marks. 


J46  APPENDIX. 

you  will  be  reminded  of  the  manner,  when  you  come  to 
practise  in  your  private  reading.  '  Dearly  beloved  bre- 
thren !  =The  Scripture  moveth  us'  in  sundry  places'  to 
acknowledge  and  confess  our  manifold  sins  and  wicked- 
ness, and  that  we  should  not  dissemble  nor  cloke  them' 
before  the  face  of  Almighty  God'  our  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther" but  confess  them'  with  an  humble  lowly'  penitent' 
and  obedient  heart'  to  the  end  that  we  may  obtain  forgive- 
ness of  the  same  by  his  infinite  goodness  and  mercy"'. 
And  although  we  ought  at  all  times'  humbly  to  acknow- 
ledge our  sins  before  God"  yet  ought  we  most  chiefly  so 
to  do  whe~h  we  assemble  and  meet  together'  to  render 
thanks'  for  the  great  benefits  we  have  received  at  his 
hands''  to  set  forth'  his  most  worthy  praise"  to  hear'  his 
most  holy  word"  and  to  ask  those  things'  which  are  requi- 
site and  necessary'  as  well  for  the  body'  as  the  soul'". 
Wherefore  I  pray  and  beseech  you  as  many  as  are  here 
present'  to  acompany  me  with  a  pure  heart'  and  humble 
voice  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly  grace  saying,'  &c." 
Sheridan,  Art  of  Reading  Prose. 

The  generality  of  the  remarks  respecting  the  way  in 
which  each  passage  of  the  Liturgy  should  be  read,  are 
correct ;  though  the  mode  recommended  for  attaining  the 
proposed  end  is  totally  different  from  what  is  suggested  in 
the  present  treatise.  In  some  points,  however,  rhe  author 
is  mistaken  as  to  the  emphatic  words  :  e.  g.  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  he  directs  the  following  passage  to  be  read  thus; 
"  thy  will'  be  done  on  earth'  as  it  is'  in  Heaven,"  with  the 
emphasis  on  the  words  "  be"  and  "  is  ;"  these,  however, 
are  not  the  emphatic  words,  and  do  not  even  exist  in  the 
Original  Greek,  but  are  supplied  by  the  translator ;  the 
latter  of  them  might,  indeed,  be  omitted  altogether,  with- 
out any  detriment  to  the  sense  ;  "  thy  will  be  done,  as  in 
Heaven,  so  also  on  earth,"  which  is  a  more  literal  trans- 
lation, is  perfectly  intelligible.  A  passage  in  the  second 
Commandment  again,  he  directs  to  be  read,  according  in- 
deed to  the  usual  mode,  both  of  reading  and  pointing  it, 
— "  visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers'  upon  the  children'  unto 
the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  me  /' 
which  mode  of  reading  destroys  the  sense,  by  making  a 
pause  at  "  children,"  and  none  at  "generation;"  for  this 


APPENDIX  *     347 

implies  that  the  third  and  fourth  generations,  who  suffer 
these  judgments,  are  themselves  such  as  hate  the  Lord,  in- 
stead of  being  rr°  rely,  as  is  meant  to  be  expressed,  the 
children  of  such;  k-o/them  that  hate  me,"  is  a  genitive 
governed  not  by  "  generation,"  but  by  "  children  :"  it 
should  be  read  (according  to  Sheridan's  marks)  "  visit  the 
sins  of  the  fathers'  upon  the  children  unto  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  me  :"  i.  e.  visit  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  who  hate  me,  upon  the  the  third  and 
fourth  generations  of  their  descendants.  The  same  sanc- 
tion is  given  to  an  equally  common  fault  in  reading  the. 
fifth  Commandment ;  "  that  thy  days  may  be  long  in  the 
land'  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee  :"  the  pause 
should  evidently  be  at  "long,"  not  at  "land."  No  one 
would  say  in  ordinary  conversation,  "  I  hope  you  will  find 
enjoyment  in  the  garden' — which  you  have  planted."  He 
has  also  strait  ,ly  omitted  an  emphasis  on  the  word 
"  covet,"  in  the  xenth  Commandment.  He  has,  however, 
in  the  negative  or  prohibitory  commands  avoided  the  com- 
mon fault  of  accenting  the  word  '.*  not."  And  here  it  may 
be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  in  some  cases  the  Copula 
ought  to  be  made  the  emphatic  word  ;  (t.  e.  the  "  is,"  if 
the  proposition  be  affirmative,  the  "  not,"  if  negative  ;) 
viz.  where  the  proposition  may  be  considered  as  in  oppo- 
sition to  its  contradictory,*  If,  e.  g.  it  had  been  a  ques- 
tion whether  we  ought  to  steal  or  not,  the  commandment, 
in  answer  to  that,  would  have  been  rightly  pronounced, 
"  thou  shalt  not  steal :"  but  the  question  being,  what  things 
we  are  forbidden  to  do,  the  answer  is,  that  "  to  steal"  is 
one  of  them,  "thou  shalt  not  steal."  In  such  a  case  as 
this,  the  proposition  is  considered  as  opposed,  not  to  its 
contradictory,  but  to  one  with  a  different  Predicate :  the 
question  being,  not,  which  Copula  (negative  or  affirmative) 
shall  be  employed,  but  ivhat  shall  be  affirmed  or  denied  of 
the  subject:  e.  g.  "it  is  lawful  to  beg;  but  not  to  steal:" 
in  such  a  case,  the  Predicate,  not  the  Copula,  will  be  the 
emphatic  word. 

♦Nor  is  this  properly  an  exception  to  the  above  rule ;  for  in  such 
cases,  that  which  is  expressed  as  the  Copula,  is,  in  sense  the  Predi 
cate  ;  the  question  being  in  fact  whether  "true"  or  "  false"  shalJ 
be  predicated  of  a  certain  assertion. 


348  *  APPENDIX 

One  fault  worth  noticing  on  accountof  its  commonness^ 
is  the  placing  of  the  emphasis  on  "  neighbour"  in  the  ninth 
a/id  tenth  commandments  ;  as  if  there  might  be  some  per- 
sons precluded  from  the  benefit  of  the  prohibitions.  One 
would  think  the  man  to  whom  our  Lord  addressed  the 
parable  of  the  good  Samaritan,  had  been  used  to  this  mode 
of  delivery,  by  his  asking  "  and  who  is  my  ncighhourV 

The  usual  pronunciation  of  one  part  of  the  "Apostles' 
Creed"  is  probably  founded  on  some  misapprehension  oi 
the  sense  of  it*  :  "  The  holy  Catholic  Church,  the  Com- 
munion of  Saints,"  is  commonly  read  as  if  these  were  two 
distinct  articles  ;  instead  of  the  latter  clause  being  merely 
an  explanation  of  the  former  :  "  The  holy  Catholic  Church. 
[viz.]  the  Communion  of  Saints. 

*  See  Sir  Peter  (afterwards  Lord)  King's  History  of  the  Apostles' 
Creed  ;  a  work  much  more  valuable  (in  proportion  to  its  sue)  tlu»n 
roooi  that  are  studied  by  theologians 


INDEX 

TO  SOME  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  WORDS. 


Action,  part  iv.  eh.  iv.  §  6. 

Adversaries,  (testimony  of,) 
p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  4. 

Analogy,  p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  6. 

Antithesis,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §  14. 

A  priori,  (argument,)  p.  i. 
ch.  ii.  §  2. 

Approach,  (argument  by,)  p. 
i.  ch.  ii.  §  5. 

Argument,  (distinguished 
from  proposition,)  p.  i.  ch. 
i.  §3. 

satisfactory  and  com- 
pulsory, p   i.  ch.  iii.  §  1. 

Arrangement,  (of  argu- 
ments,) p.  i.   ch.  iii.  §   4. 

of  words,  p.  iii.   ch. 

i.  §  3   and  ch.  ii.  §  11. 

Bashfuiness,  (in  public 
speaking,)  p.  iv.  ch.  iv.  § 
2. 

Belief,  (coincident  with  dis- 
belief,) p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  4. 

Burden  of  proof,  p.  i.  ch.  iii. 
§2. 

Cause,  (argument  from,)  p. 
L  ch.  ii.  §  2. 


Chances,  (calculation  of,)  p 

i.  ch   ii.  §  4. 
Character,   (of  Speaker,)  p. 

ii.  ch.  i.  §  3.  and  ch.  iii 

M- 

Climax,  p.  ii.  ch.  ii.  §  4. 
Common-Sense,  p.  i.  ch.  ii 

§6. 
Comparison,  (use  of,  in  ex 

citi  tg  any  feeling,)  p.  ii 

ch   ii.  §  4. 
or  Simile,  p.  iii.  ch 

ii.  §3. 
Composition,  (fallacy  of,)  p, 

i.  ch.  it.  §  4. 
Conciseness,  p.  iii.  ch.    ii 

§7. 
Conclusion,  (when  to  come 

first,)  p.  i.  ch.  iii.  §  5. 
Conscious  (manner,)  p.  iv 

ch  iv.  §  2   p.  287,  note. 
Conviction,  (distinguished 

from   Persuasion,)   p.    ii 

ch.  i.  §  1. 
Credulity,  (coincident  with 

Incredulity,)  p.   i.   ch.  ii 

Crowded  (style,)  p.  iii.  cU 
ii.  §  9. 


350 


INDEX 


Delivery,  p.  iv.  ch.  iv,  §  1. 
Direct  (Argument,)  p.  i.  ch. 

ii.  §  i.  and  ch.  iii.  §  6. 
Diversion  of  Feelings,  p.  ii. 

ch.  ii.  §  6. 
Dividing  (a  question,)  p.  i. 

ch.  iii.  §  4. 

Effect,  (Argument  from,)  p. 

i.  ch.  ii.  §  3. 
Elegance  (of  Style,)  p.  iii. 

ch.  iii.  §  1,  2. 
Emphasis,  p.  iv.  ch.  ii.  §  2. 
Energy  (of  Style,)  p.  iii.  ch. 

ii.  §  1,  &c. 
Epithets,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §  4. 
Example,  p.  i.  ch.  ii.    6. 
(corresponding  to  a 

geometrical)  diagram,  p. 

i.  ch.  ii.  §  7. 
Exercises,  Introd.  §  5. 
Experience,  (Argument 

from)  p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  6. 
Authority    derived 

from,  p.  ii.  ch.  iii.  §  5. 

Fact,  (matters  of.)  p.   i.  ch. 

ii.  §  4.  and  ch.  iii.  §  3. 
Feelings,  (apt  to  fall  short  of 

what   the    occasion    calls 

for,)  p.  ii.  ch.  i.  §  2. 
Fine  delivery,  p.  iv.   ch.  iii. 

§4- 
Gender,  p.  iii.  ch.  n.  §  2.  __ 
General  terms,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii 

§1. 
Good-will,  (essential  to  the 

Speaker's  character,)  p.  ii. 

ch.  iii.  §  3. 
Illustration,  p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  7. 

and  ch.  iii.  §  3. 
Imagination,  p.  ii.  ch.  ii.  §  2. 


Imitation,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §5 
Inconsistency,  p.  ii.  ch.  iii 
§5. 

Indirect  (Arguments),  p.  i, 
ch.  ii.  §  1.  and  ch.  iii.  §  7. 

Induction,  p.  i  ch.  ii.  ^  6. 

Instruction  (distinguished 
from  Conviction  strictly 
so  called),  p.  i.  ch.  i.  §  1. 

Integrity  (of  the  speaker's 
chracter),  p.  ii.  ch.  iii.  §  3. 

Interrogation,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii. 
§15. 

Ironical  form,  p.  i.  ch.  iii 
§7. 

Loose  sentences,  p.  iii.  ch. 
ii.  §  12. 


Metaphor,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii. 
Metonomy,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii. 


Natural  delivery,  p.  iv.  ch 

ii.  iii.  &c. 
Number  of  words,  (energy 

dependent  on,)  p.  iii.  ch. 

ii.  §  7. 

Objections,  p.  i.  ch.  iii.  §  7. 
Opinion  (see  Fact.) 
Oratory,    (spurious,)  p.  Hi. 
ch.  i.  §  4,  5,  6. 

Paley,  (Horae  Paulinas,)  p.  i. 
ch.  ii.  §  4.  and  p.  i.  ch.  iii. 

Paradox,  p.  i.  ch.  .ii.  §  2. 
Parity  of  reasoning,  p.  i.  ch. 

ii:  §  6, 
Party-Spirit,  p.    ii.  ch.    iii 

§  3. 
Passions,  p.  ii.  ch.  i   §  3. 


INDEX, 


Bbl 


Periods,  p  III.  ch.  ii.  §  12. 

Personification,  p.  iii.  ch  ii. 

§3. 
Perspicuity,  p.  iii.  ch.  i.  §2. 

&c. 
Persuasion,  (analysis  of,)  p. 

ii.  ch.  i.  §  1. 
Plain,     (ambiguity    of   the 

word,)  p.  iii.  ch.  i.  §  3. 
Plausible,  p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  2. 
Poetry,  (ehar&teristic  of)  p. 

iii.  ch.  iii  §  3. 
Practice    (in  composition,) 

Introd.  §  5. 
Presumptions,  p.  i.  ch.   iii. 

§2. 
Prolixity  p.   iii.  ch.  1.  §  2. 

and  ch.  ii.  §  7. 
Proper  terms,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii. 

Propositions,  (to  find,)  part 
i.  ch.  i.  §  3. 

Reading,  p.    iv.  ch.  i.  §  3. 
and  ch.  iii.  §  1. 

Recapitulation,  p.  i.  ch.  iii. 
§?. 

Recitation,    p.    iv.    ch.    iv. 
§2. 

Refutation,  p.  i.  ch.  iii.  §  7. 

too  forcible,  §  8. 

Repetition,    (conducive  to 
perspicuity,)  p.  iii.  ch.  i. 
§2. 

Rhetoric,    (why  in    greater 
repute  among  the  An- 
cients,)  Introd.    §   3,   4. 

Rhetorician  (art  of,  practi- 


sed  by  a  wise  man   on 
himself,)  p.  ii.  ch.  i.  §  2. 

Sermons,  (common-place,) 
p.  iii.  ch.  3.  §  2. 

Sequence,  (physical  and  lo- 
gical,) p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  3. 

Sign,  p.  i.  ch.  ii.  §  3. 

Simile,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §  3. 

Sound,  (imitative,)  p.  iii 
ch.  ii.  §  5. 

Speaking,  (distinguished 
from  Reading,)  p.  iv.  ch. 
i.  §  3.  and  ch.  iii.  §  1 

Subjects,  (for  learners,)  In- 
trod. §  5. 

Substantives,  (excessive  u§g 
of,)  p.  iii.  ch.  ii  §  9. 

Suggestive  (Style,)  p.  iii 
ch.  ii.  §  8. 

Sympathy,  (reflex,)  p.  iv 
ch.  iii.  §  8. 

Tautology,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §  8 
Technical  terms,  p.  iii.  ch 

ii.  §  6. 
Testimony,  p.  i  ch.  ii.  §  4. 
Theological  Style  p.  iii.  ch. 

ii.  §6. 
Tone,  p.  iv.  ch.  i.  §  3,  note^ 

and  ch.  ii.  §  2. 
Tradition,  p.  i.  ch.  iii.  §  2. 
Tropes,  p.  iii  ch.  ii.  §  2. 

Verbosity,  p.  iii.  ch.  ii.  §  g 

"Waiving  (a  question,}  p. 
ch.  iii.  §  4. 


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